The Siren's Mark
by xXxNKxXx
Summary: Sequel to "The God and the Siren." It's been a year and a half since the Asgardians left, and life has long returned to a state of normalcy. Cerys' ties with the Avengers, however, leaves her open to hearing about Loki's return. To New York, at the very least - his place in her life is forfeit.
1. Chapter 1: Shit

Lights flash in my peripheral vision as I run through the maze. I took down three robot simulators in the open area behind me, exactly the way that Natasha and Clint taught me, and there's no doubt in my mind that they're watching me right now on one of the monitors. Hopefully nodding approvingly—I'd hate for them to feel like all their time and effort into train me had gone to waste.

I stop at the end of an empty hallway, glaring up at a single camera perched on the opposite wall, signaling the end of the maze. I furrow a brow at the lack of a door, or ladder—anything to get me over the wall and back into the training arena, like there usually is at the end of other training simulations.

I glance back before looking at the camera again, realizing that the situation is a puzzle—there's a way over the wall, and…

I have to jump. That has to be it, there's nothing else it could be.

I glance at one of the lamps on the wall, knowing that there's probably a small camera watching me on one of them. I back up slowly down the hallway, and take off in a brisk run, turning sharply to grab onto one of the wall lamps, and heave myself toward the camera.

Just as predicted, the camera is mounted tightly enough to hold my weight easily. I haul myself up onto it, reaching for the top of the wall as I haul myself over it. This one's taller than the others, and my quick scrambling proves unwise as I tumble a fair distance down to the ground—barely managing to catch myself as I land on my arm.

"Aw fucking hell, damn it all," I curse as I straighten up, grasping my elbow.

I look around at the familiar scene—black walls surrounding the maze, and a single pair of double-doors in front of me. A couple of crew members emerge from behind the doors as they usually do, and lead me back to the main camera room for my evaluation.

"Not bad," Natasha says, pivoting in my direction as they shuffle me in. "Especially that last part—now _that _was pretty graceful, Cerys."

"Shut up," I answer laughingly as they sit me down in the spinning chair in front of the monitors.

Behind her, Clint chuckles at the video recording of my 'graceful' scramble over the wall. "I think I'll take an extra copy of _that,_" he says, pointing to the screen. "And take it home for a rainy day."

"Other than that," Nat interjects, looking toward me as she leans against the counter. "You did pretty good. Think you're ready to ditch the wire."

I'd been at A.I.M's headquarters several times now, but never without an untraceable device listening in on all the conversations. I tell myself that it's a pretty entertaining scene—working both agencies at the same time, but only one of them knows that I'm genuinely working for them. Only S.H.I.E.L.D knows my true allegiances, A.I.M only thinks that I'm working undercover for them.

"Awesome," I mumble, rubbing my sore arm as I glance at the time—seven o'clock. "Damn it, I wanted to be done by six thirty…"

"Big plans tonight?" Clint asks as he traces his fingers across the floating screens.

I shrug. "Michael's coming over, does that count?"

"Think that stops counting after the first six months," he responds.

Indeed, it's been nearly a year since Michael and I started dating—nearly a year since I met him at the Academy. He was one of the featured performers in the first show I choreographed, though we didn't start seeing each other until after it was over. Those first few months were the lightest I'd felt in a long, long time, and the past year has comprised the best, healthiest relationship I've ever been in.

"'Cuz you know so much about that, right?" I smirk as I look up at him, and the corner of his mouth flickers in turn. "Alright, well, if you guys don't mind… I'm going to head out."

"Sure," Nat nods in my direction. I roll my shoulder back as I stand, making for the doors and heading to the locker rooms.

* * *

I'd spared the shower at home by showering at the facility, and despite my tardiness, I was able to get back home in a timely manner—thanks to the secret roads that S.H.I.E.L.D has me taking, I skipped the latter half of rush hour traffic.

All part of the effort to keep my secret life just that—a secret.

Music plays on the other side of the door as I saunter down the hallway, a clear indicator that Andy—my favorite roommate, with his harmless-yet-not-so-subtle hots for my boyfriend—is home early from work. At this time of the day, Janie, Rita and Lalita are probably home as well.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I look down at it as I open the door. A text from Michael:

Wed, 8:30 PM/Michael: "_Got your green light, I'll be there in a bit. I love you :)"_

I smile.

"What up, friends?" I murmur as I enter the rowdy apartment, closing the door behind me and slipping my phone back into my pocket.

The delicious smell of curry instantly hits my nostrils, and I inhale it deeply—such a pleasant reminder that Lalita offered to cook us dinner tonight. She, Janie and Rita are all in school at NYU, apparently going through midterms this week. With a communal pitch for food expenses, Lalita made dinner to help with the stress of having to physically survive during this difficult, difficult time.

The laughter tapers for a moment as my roommates look back at me. "Heeeeey," Lalita croons as she stands to get another plateful of food. "Dinner's ready. Came out pretty well I think!"

"Nice," I set my purse down on the counter as I look over the massive containers of food. "How much should I Venmo you?"

She shrugs. "Like five bucks."

"I'll make it ten," I respond, pulling out my phone to fulfill my obligation. "Done and done. Thank you so much for doing this," I say, scooping some food onto one of the stacked plates. "I mean, I know it's not really for me, but thanks anyways."

"Best damn fuckin' curry I've ever had," Andy muffles, raising a brow as he shovels another spoonful into his mouth.

"I thought you said you've never had it before," Janie points her fork at him. "So, like, you can't compare. But like, it's super good, Lalita—I've had it so many times, this is _bomb_."

I press my lips together. Rita must have the patience of a saint to be tolerating sharing my old room with her—the voice alone makes me grind my teeth. At least it did, anyway, when she first moved in. She's got a nice personality and her heart's in the right place, so that's all that mattered in the end.

All in all, we get along really well, and that's as lucky as lucky gets.

"It is really good," I nod in agreement as I sit down on one of the couches. "How was your guys' day?"

"Pretty good," Andy laughs as he points to Rita with his fork. "Except hers,_ she dun' fucked up today," _he says sarcastically.

I widen my eyes as I look at her. "Oh no, what'd you do?"

Rita smacks her lips together heavily, pursing them as she nods her head and looks up at me. "May or may not have accidentally sent the wrong e-mail to the wrong person."

I raise a brow at her. "What, a sex e-mail or something?"

She shakes her head. "Not exactly—you know that guy I told you about yesterday, from that college dating site?"

I lower my chin. "Yeaaaah?"

"Well, we were talking about setting up a coffee date, and I accidentally sent the last e-mail that was meant for him, to my boss."

"What!?" I double over laughing—nearly choking on a piece of chicken. "What the hell, Rita? Who the hell even sends e-mails anymore, don't you text!?"

"Well he's old fashioned, okay!?" she laughs back at me. "And I freakin' _like it!" _

_"Oh yeah, _I bet your boss liked it it too," Andy smirks as he looks down at his plate.

"Oh my GOD," I burst out laughing, and a knock sounds against the front door. "Oh," I turn, setting my plate down on the coffee table. "I'll get it, it's Michael."

Andy purses his lips demonstrably as he looks at me, narrowing his eyes suggestively. I giggle, "Shut up!" I say amusedly as I stand and saunter past the kitchen.

Green eyes and a bright, white smile flash handsomely as I open the door. "Hiya," Michael says in a sweet, smooth voice as he steps over the threshold, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I hug him in turn, rolling onto the balls of my feet to meet his height, and brushing my cheek against his soft, blonde hair.

"Hi there," I smile, pecking his lips as I pull back.

My roommates greet him dispersedly as I stroll back over to the coffee table to grab my plate of food, and head back to the kitchen. "You should have some of this," I gesture to the food as he looks down at it, shuffling in my direction slowly. "It's really good."

He grins slightly. "Yeah, I mean, I actually am pretty hungry, you sure it's okay?"

"Of course it is!" I nod, giving him a warm smile—he knows we split the expenses of bulk dinners. I'll tell him later that I pitched an extra five bucks, even though we both know that my roommates like him enough to welcome him anytime.

"Yeah you're totally welcome dude—how was your day?" Lalita chirps from the couch.

He throws her a friendly grin and shrugs. "Not bad. Practice like always."

"Ahhh," I mumble, scooping up some food for him. "How're they liking my new routine?"

When no response comes, I look back to see him pursing his lips together amusedly. I widen my eyes, "What, do they hate it!?"

"No, no," he says, laying a hand on my back as he takes the plate from my hand. "But Jackie might've broken her ankle doing that last flip."

I gasp. "Oh shit, do they know for sure?"

Breaking any body part is a huge, huge deal for dancers—breaking one on the cusp of a performance is an even bigger deal. The Academy won't be performing at the Remembrance Festival this year, but there are plenty of other events around for them to be hired for—never mind the concert performances we put on ourselves. Sometimes with well-known bands and singers, and many of our own students and performers have gone on to pursue those types of careers themselves.

The Academy's been growing a pretty versatile reputation in that sense, and rumor has it that they're branching off into theater now. A rumor I'm sworn not to confirm, even though I've been presented with some collaborative projects ideas myself.

"It happened just before I left," Michael shrugs. "So I didn't stick around to hear much of anything that was going on."

I nod. "I see… I guess, maybe I need to have another look at the routine, or something."

"No, babe, it wasn't your fault," he says, turning and strolling after me behind the couches.

I frown. "I don't know, feels like it a little… but I really thought she could handle that move, you know?"

"Yeah, of course," he nods, taking a bite of his food as he follows after me. "She should have been able to, it wasn't that hard."

I nod as I look over at the living room, noting how the others have long continued on with their conversation, and we continue on with ours as we head back to my new room—Loki's old room.

I didn't touch the arrangement of the room after he'd left, and I still haven't. I did try to rent it out initially, I really did… But I'd spent so many nights in there after the Asgardians had left, I just didn't have it in me to let it go, and I hadn't had the forethought to think about the consequences of dating a new guy and bringing him home to it. So instead, I rented out the other rooms and kept it for myself.

No one knows who it belonged to previously, of course—especially not Michael. And no one knows what I did, save for Pepper and Tony, who still come over to visit from time to time.

Boy oh boy, is it fun when Iron Man visits our apartment.

I suppose Pepper _did_ try to warn me that keeping Loki's room wasn't a good idea, but I just wasn't in the headspace to listen to her back then. I'd be lying if I said I didn't regret that deeply. It was hard enough at first to be reminded of him when I finally started feeling ready to let go, bringing Michael home to it also added the benefit of guilt. So I decided that I would take back my old room, as soon as Rita and Janie decided to move out—which would probably be soon, considering the fact that they're both seniors.

If not, I'd figure something else out. One of them is bound to leave, and I've already considered all the options—charging the same rent to move into the individual rooms, for example. I've no idea how those conversations will go, but I figure that that'll be a bridge to cross when I actually get to it.

The only real adjustment I'd made to Loki's room was placing a TV at the foot of the bed, which still left plenty of room for everything else. Definitely a good decision, especially for nights like this…

Michael kicks off his shoes and coat before plopping down onto the bed beside me, and I lay my near empty plate down beside his on the nightstand, leaning against his shoulder as he navigates through his Netflix account—which I'm currently using as well.

He rolls his head down toward me. "Any requests?" he asks, his breath fanning my forehead.

"No," I shake my head against his shoulder.

"How about this?" he asks, navigating to the Babadook. "You in the mood for something scary?"

I grin—horror movies lead to cuddling. And cuddling leads to 'better times'—I nod approvingly. "Sure!"

"Alright," he selects the movie, and shifts slightly before grabbing his plate again.

Barely a minute into the movie, I brush my cheek against his sleeve as I look up at him from below. "I feel so bad," I murmur.

"What? What for?"

"Well," I mumble as he sets the plate back down and shifts further down, propping up against an elbow and looking down at me concertedly. "Jackie's ankle… Maybe she wasn't ready for that kind of move…"

"Oh, babe," he says, pulling me against him. "Stop it, it's not your fault—she should've said something if she couldn't do it, but she really wanted to. We all liked your routine."

"_Kay,_" I muffle against his shirt, enjoying the warmth emanating from him as I glance at his plate. "You have to stay like this, you're not allowed to eat anymore."

He chuckles lowly. "Okay, sure," he says, gliding his hand up to the side of my face. "No more food… For now."

I nod. "No more food."

"…For now," he adds.

"_Mmmm,_" I rub my face against his shirt in response, and he laughs as he hugs me tightly.

We stay like that for some time, until the closeness and intermittent kisses steep just long enough for intimacy to bloom in my chest. The kisses deepen as his hands begin to glide, and one by one, my articles of clothing leave my body for the floor. Moments more, and the sheets are crumpled around us both.

My phone buzzes a few times atop the nightstand, but I barely notice.

I'm not sure how long these honeymoon phases are supposed to last, but I'm elated to admit that the passion hasn't diminished at all since the first time we slept together. Surprisingly enough, it was our first date, and what was meant to be a quick coffee date turned into a seven-hour conversation. I hadn't even noticed the time go by until dusk settled, and at that point, we simply decided to just go ahead and jump straight to our second date over dinner.

Despite the fact that we weren't strangers—based on our mutually shared occupation—and the fact that Michael's handsome features should theoretically add to his confidence, he was pretty reluctant to kiss me that night. He told me retrospectively that he'd wanted to, but was extremely nervous, which was why I had to lean in first.

And I remember it like it was yesterday. The street was completely empty, save for the two of us, and what started as a small peck quickly turned into a deeper kiss. For me, the whole occasion felt like I was coming alive, and the kiss simply plunged me into warm water. I was warm and light, and above all, I was happy…

I still am—in more ways than one, as I roll over onto my side, panting.

"I think we probably need to rewind," Michael says amusedly.

I smirk. "Probably," I say, reaching for the remote. At some point, we'd switched places, and I landed closer to the nightstand than he did. "Here we go," I say, pressing the rewind button.

Michael settles onto the pillow behind me as I prop myself up.

"You coming back?" he muses, and I look back to see him smiling at me—illuminated by the TV.

I grin. "Yes, gimme one sec," I say, and prop myself up onto my elbow as I reach up and grab my phone.

The screen lights up my eyes, and I squint as Pepper's name appears on the screen—along with three texts.

Wed, 9:12 PM/Pepper: "_Hey, call me when you can, I need to tell you something"_

Wed, 9:15 PM/Pepper: _"It's important, so do it ASAP" _

Wed, 9:22 PM/Pepper: "_Okay damn it, I don't have the patience for this right now… Loki and Thor are coming, they'll be here in a few days. Avengers business, Tony hasn't told me what's going on yet, so I don't know how long they're staying" _

My eyes widen as heat drains from my cheeks, and panic slowly seeps into my chest. I reread the same text a few more times to make sure I get it right, before another one appears.

Wed, 9:53 PM/Pepper: _"Too late, I saw the 'read' receipt… Say something :(_"

I blink a few times, raising my thumbs to the keyboard.

Wed, 9:54 PM/Cerys: "_Shit_"

* * *

**SURPRISE, FRIENDS! **

**Okay, so I couldn't stay away from this project as long as I'd anticipated. I literally started thinking about this right away, I just couldn't wait until the weekend, and I figured you guys would be okay with it. ;) **

**I hope you like the introduction. In my mind, as I was imagining Cerys' and Michael's relationship, it was light and beautiful and happy, so I tried to portray it that way. Honestly, it makes me both happy and sad to think about what's in store. At the very least, it will definitely make things all the more interesting down the line, I think - let me know what you think!**

**Thank you guys so much for reading this story, and for coming over to the sequel as well. You guys are the best, and I'm super duper excited to interact and take you all on this next chapter of Loki and Cerys' journey!**


	2. Chapter 2: Keep Away, XXX

"I didn't even know they opened the bars this early…" Pepper mumbled as I downed my second shot at a downtown pub.

"It's for the festival…" I murmur in turn, starting to feel the alcohol affecting me.

Pepper raises a brow as she looks down at me, the corners of her lips curling downward reproachfully. "Are you sure you wanna be drinking that much?"

I shake my head briskly. "_Oof_—don't worry about it, let's just…" I plop my finger down on the glossy wooden counter, wincing as it comes down with a greater force than I'd anticipated. "Let's go over the plan again, okay?"

"Okay," she nods. "So you're going to keep your people down near central park, and I'll keep my people up near the stage."

"_Mugh,_" I give her a look of disdain. "Why do _you_ get to watch the show?"

"Because we're VIP's, remember?"

"Yeah—two years ago, you were."

"Bottom line is, if you want to avoid us, avoid Columbus Circle like the plague until at least five o'clock—got it?"

"Got it."

"Are you sure you're going to be able to convince them not to come to the show?"

"Yup—'Nother round, please," I pause, turning and gesturing to the bartender. "But yeah, there's usually some other little stuff going on in Central Park, I'll just tell them it's packed and we'll go there instead."

"Shame you won't see Thor, either," Pepper says.

"Yeah," I mumble, recalling his perky smile and big hugs. "I know, I miss that guy…"

"Yeah, so does he," she pauses. "They asked about you, you know."

I raise a brow at her. "They both did? Or just Loki?"

"Well, Thor… he started it, and then Loki asked if you were still living at the apartment."

"What'd you tell them?"

Pepper shrugs. "Told 'em you were doing great, still living there with a bunch of new roommates. Three girls and a guy," she smirks, raising her mojito to her lips. "You shoulda seen Loki's face," she mumbles against the glass.

"What, did he look pissed?"

She crinkles her brow sarcastically. "It looked more like his balls froze, and the rest of his body froze with them. He didn't look pissed, if you know what I mean, he didn't look like he was thinking or feeling much at all for like, two seconds."

"Oh yeah, I know what you mean," I chuckle at the image of Loki, in his endless pursuit of appearing calm, being rendered frozen by the news of my gay roommate.

Thankfully, the alcohol stifles whatever remnants of personal satisfaction that might've risen from this information—at least, I think it's the alcohol. Certainly it's possible, and all the more likely, that I've simply moved on, and the idea of Loki's jealousy doesn't affect me anymore.

Back when things first ended, the bitterness of how he left things was especially helpful in achieving that, along with helping to throw my inner walls up against it. Somehow, I think that was intentional on his part, and I'll always be tacitly, objectively grateful to him for that.

"Cool," I say, taking the final shot as the bartender slides it over to me, taking my card in exchange. "Alright, we should get going."

"Sure," Pepper says, rising from her chair as I do. "Remember—you go north, I'll go south."

A glimmer of humor tickles my chest, and I murmur suggestively. "_Yeah_ you will," I chuckle, throwing my coat on.

"Oh, _God_," Pepper cringes. The expression rouses a giggle, which grows quickly into a hearty laugh as she stares at me intently. "Seriously? Since when can you not handle three shots? How am I supposed to leave you like this?"

I shake my head as we walk out the door. "No, dude, I feel fine—it's just 'cause I took them all so quickly. I'm honestly just tipsy. Besides, remember Mardi Gras? I got across town just fine! And I'm only meeting them two blocks down, you're going further than I am," I point in the opposite direction, nearly whacking her in the face. She stumbles back as I pivot on my heel.

"Okay, fine," she says, looking up at the bright, midday clouds blanketing the sky. "The streets are closed to cars anyway, just… Can you text me when you find your friends? And remember, don't go south."

I nod. "I promise I won't go south…'til I get home," I wave a hand as my voice drops low, and she levels a flat stare at me.

Pepper makes a face. "Okay, no—nope," she interjects laughingly. "Don't need to hear about that."

"Alright, well _sayanara _then" I salut her as I turn to head down the street.

"See ya!" she calls out to me as she makes off in the opposite direction.

* * *

I figured it wouldn't be hard to convince the others to go to Central Park. The festival grows bigger and bigger every year, and I've never seen this many people crowded around in one place before—the fact that I live in New York and say that, is saying a lot. Central Park would be a relief.

Not to say that that's a comment on the festival itself, of course. There's music everywhere, and the streets are lined with decorations and food stands on every single corner… Plus, whoever plans the festival must also hire a meteorologist every year, because the occasion always falls on a cloudy day in the middle of rainy season.

Despite the grayness of the sky, the atmosphere just couldn't be lighter—couldn't possibly scream happiness and merriment. Remembrance? Not so much. Though that's hardly an issue crossing my mind as I drunkenly chow down on my burrito, along with Michael, my roommates, and Rita's latest love interest perusing various topics of conversation around me.

"I think the show started at like, four?" Janie says, pointing to some vague direction behind her. "If we leave now, we can make it there in like, thirty minutes…"

"No, no," I shake my head, nearly spitting out a few chunks of chewed up burrito while I'm at it. "We should go to Central Park, they have other stuff, and… whatnot…" I stumble slightly, and take another massive bite of the burrito.

I hadn't worried much about keeping my buzz going throughout the day, but the last two beers I had an hour ago may have been too close together, and I've already got a third in my hand waiting to be drunk…

"Dude, Central Park's closed," Lalita says, and my brows rise slowly as I stare at her mid-chew—mouth bulging a bit from the giant bite.

I level a stare at her. "_What?_" I muffle the word.

She shakes her head. "Yeah, they closed it this year because of all the rain, it's super muddy."

"_Oh._" I let out, with my mouth still full. I blink down at the ground, and Michael lays a hand on my shoulder as I quickly chew and swallow my food.

"Why, what's up?" he asks, trying to stifle a drunk grin with a concerted look.

I shake my head as I look up at him. "Nothing, I just thought we'd check it out this year."

"So let's just go dance instead, yeeeeeaaaah!?" Janie squeals—Jesus, her voice gets high when she's drunk.

I glance around the group, noting the fervent consensus arising in their expressions. Save for Rita, who turns to her boy toy, Ryan, with a grin and mumbles something. By the way that both their faces light up, I surmise that he's equally agreeable to go and dance with the rest of us.

It'll be four thirty when we get there… Only thirty minutes before they get up to leave, but I suppose, if this year's show is anything like the past couple of years, there'll be several rows of chairs in front of the stage, and we'll probably end up standing way in the back—the stage will barely be visible. And so will we.

Sat, 4:02 PM/Cerys: "_Pep, CP's closed… They wanna go to the show_"

Thank goodness for autocorrect.

Moments later, my phone buzzes:

Sat, 4:07 PM/Pepper: "_Damn it… Ok_"

Sat, 4:08 PM/Cerys: "_Is Loki with you guys?_"

Sat, 4:10 PM/Pepper: "_Yes_"

My lips thin into a straight line, and a sense of dread bleeds through the otherwise numbing feeling of intoxication.

Sat, 4:12 PM/Cerys: "_VIP?_"

Sat, 4:13 PM/Pepper: "_Yeah…"_

Sat, 4:13 PM/Pepper: "_Next to me, text me so he doesn't see his name_"

Sat, 4:14 PM/Cerys: "_lol_"

Sat, 4:14 PM/Pepper: "_lol_"

Sat, 4:15 PM/Cerys: "_lol_"

Sat, 4:15 PM/Pepper: "_lol_"

Sat, 4:15 PM/Pepper: "_Okay that's good, text me when you're here_"

Sat, 4:19 PM/Cerys: "_Ten mins"_

Ten minutes fly by, and we still find ourselves a ways away from the stage—at least my guess was right in that regard. There's no way we're getting any closer.

The music blares against the tall buildings surrounding us, and I can imagine just how they're dancing to the beat on stage. Michael and the others can too—made clear by the way they're bobbing all around me to the beat. At least the sheer number of people surrounding us on all sides calms my nerves a bit, since the likelihood of running into one single person among so many is low.

They die down further and further as my resolve slowly fizzles away, and I slowly sway and dance through the rest of the show—onward with more enthusiasm, after a DJ takes over the stage and keeps the party going. The alcohol is still very much in my system, but the levels are low enough for me to keep my composure at least, and dance coherently.

Judging by how quickly my legs begin to tire, I'd wager to guess that nearly an hour goes by before the crowds begin to disperse. The area is still comparatively dense, compared to how it normally is, but it allows a bit more room for us to jump around a bit more to the music. Pepper had said to avoid the area until five o'clock, and considering the fact that the show ended quite some time ago, we seem to be in the clear.

After some short time, the sky begins to darken slightly, and the announcement comes on that the last song of the day is about to play. Having topped off my final beer for the night, I cheer happily along with my roommates as an upbeat tune comes on to close the occasion.

"Wait a minute!" I turn to Michael, settling down from hopping about to the music. The others go on dancing around us, but Michael turns and grabs my shoulder as he peers down at me—eyes widened and glazed over with the same realization that struck me the minute that the song came on. "This is Saxobeat!" I yell over the rowdiness of the crowd.

"Yeah, it's Saxobeat!" he exclaims.

"OH MY GOD!" I laugh, glancing between him and my oblivious roommates dancing about to my left.

I choreographed a number for him and two other dancers—Jake and Brian—to this song. It wasn't how we 'met,' per say, but it was how we became acquainted.

"Do you still remember the moves!?"

"Babe, do you remember how many times we practiced that!?" he laughs. "Seriously, do _you _remember!?" I glance down at his arms as he brings them up to my sides in a way that mimics the choreography slightly as he steps toward me.

I double over laughing at his amusing display of half-dancing, half-cornucopia-of-embarrasing-movements—is this supposed to be his way of goading me into dancing with him?

"Oh my GOD, you fucking nerd!" My cheeks redden and I throw my hands up over them as I turn away, looking back at him and laughing amusedly as I question what mind I was in when I decided he was a sane enough human being to date.

I push away from him slightly, but tears well up in my eyes as Andy suddenly butts into the 'dancing,' and Michael joins in the laughter as he visibly simplifies the moves—allowing Andy, and then Rita, Ryan and Janie to join in on it. Lalita goes on doing her thing beside us, and the sheer enjoyment in the atmosphere—the smiling, laughing faces and stupidly drunk dancing—finally topples me over the edge.

Ignoring the buzzing sensation in my pocket, I give in to my boyfriend's and roommates' outward display of drunkenness, and start dancing along to the moves with Michael—feeling my heart pump, my body perspire, and adrenaline pump through my excited limbs.

As Michael returns some of the sophistication to his dancing, some people around us notice what's going on behind them, and a small space opens up around us. No one turns to watch, save for an equally drunk couple somewhere off to the right, and my roommates cheer as Michael and I drunkenly play out the choreography with vague synchronicity—to the best of our ability, in this state.

We fall together in a mini-group hug momentarily when it's all over, and I finally pull out my phone to check my texts.

Sat, 6:02 PM/Pepper: _"They opened up the roads, we're going up Broadway"_

Sat, 6:05 PM/Pepper: _"Scratch that, car's on 60th back"_

Sat, 6:05 PM/Pepper: _"Keep away XXX"_

'_Car's on 60th back?_' I eye the screen confusedly. "The fuck's that mean…?" I murmur quietly to myself.

Last I looked at a street sign, I saw the numbers 5-8. I haven't the patience to text in my intoxicated state, so I call Pepper to discretely let her know that we're probably heading toward 59th.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Pep?" I yell drunkenly into the phone, leaning against Michael as he drapes his arm over my shoulder, and the others tug us this way and that. "We're going to 59th! What do you mean 60th back!?"

She pauses for a moment. "Did you say 59th?"

"Yeah we're in that green-y grassy area, so we're just gonna cross the street now and-"

"No, that's not-" her voice drowns out as we pass along a particularly noisy portion of the crowd.

"What!?" I exclaim as we tread closer to the edge of the sidewalk.

The group stops as a number of cars pass along the the road, and I glance around the area. My head spins a bit as I narrow my eyes at a familiar black SUV parked on the back corner of the street, to the right. While my roommates continue chattering around me, I barely have time to blink and process whether it's a S.H.I.E.L.D vehicle, before Pepper's beige coat appears from around the corner—still discernible in the faint grey ambiance of the evening.

I nearly stumble as several more figures appear behind her, taking in a sharp, icy breath of air as Loki's form appears among them. Clad in dark pants and a long, black blazer coat, he strides out beside Thor and Tony, along with some of my colleagues from S.H.I.E.L.D—clearly off duty, judging by their casual apparel.

Pepper gives me a not-so-subtle double take as soon as she sees me. I instantly press my lips together as it prompts Tony's inner dramatic-ass to turn his head demonstrably in our direction, all while saying something clearly audible to the group, that makes Pepper's eyes bolt open with panic.

"Shit," I hear Pepper's voice over the speaker, and Tony clenches his teeth, eyes widening as soon as he sees me and realizes what he'd started, but it's too late—he'd caught Thor and Loki's attention already.

With the phone still pressed to my ear, I stare at them as Tony and Thor scan the group intently. Loki glances at Thor before turning his head in our direction—brows quirked upward in a bored expression. My breath hitches in my throat as a familiar green tint flashes over me, and I hold Loki's gaze for half a second before his eyes flicker uninterestedly toward Michael, and he blinks back down at the car without so much as a flinch.

Even from here, I can see Pepper's cheeks flush a little as Loki steps past her, sparing a knowing look and uttering something brief as he slides into the car.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, as I lower my chin suspiciously. "What'd he say?"

She knits her brows together, shoulders slumping a bit.

"'_Hello, Cerys.'_"

* * *

**CRIIIIIIIINGE. **

**Thank you guys for the warm welcome back! :) I recognize you all from God and the Siren, and I'm super happy to see that you guys liked the intro! I'm honestly not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter, I'm not sure if I conveyed it as well in the writing as it was playing out in my head. There are also some things about Cerys that feel a little bit different in my mind as I write and contemplate the chapters, so it's interesting to be exploring how she's changed almost two years into the future. And believe it or not, I felt just as astounded by Loki's reaction as Cerys did. I mean, as the writer, of course I have certain insights to my characters' motives, but sometimes the characters break out of my outlines and write the story for themselves. And that blip right there was a part of Loki that's still hard for even me to fully empathize with - how he could go that long without seeing her, and then muster whatever he needed to muster to be so nonchalant about it. Tough cookie, much? What do you guys imagine he was thinking in that moment?**

**I'm also really happy with how Cerys' and Pepper's friendship has evolved. More texting, as you might guess. Texting will probably have a pretty decently sized role in this story, so I hope you guys like it! And as you pointed out so aptly, dearest MommaWolf18, their relationship definitely got the time it needed to mend, so now I'm back to having a decent chuckle when I write and/or contemplate their interactions, lol. **

**Anywho, that's all for now, my darlings. I just love writing this so much. I love interacting with you guys so much. This is just awesome. And to those of you who CONTINUE to participate in this, just know that I read your comments thoroughly, remember your names, and deeply appreciate you all. So thank you. :) **


	3. Chapter 3: It's raining ramen

Blood splatters all over the floor when a third robot appears behind me, leaving a gash on my shoulder from one its bladed appendages.

I cry out painfully as I topple over to the right, leaning against one of the pale, metallic walls of the training pit. Two robots already in front of me followed—preparing to strike again. "Time out, _time out!_" I scream at the walls, where I know the cameras are watching.

Nothing happens.

_Shit._ The lesson immediately pops into my head—I might get injured on duty, but there'll be no 'time outs,' and I'll have to keep fighting.

Wetness spreads across my backside, and I ignore the mind numbing pain and stinging as I fork out several more maneuvers, ending the fight just as quickly as I possibly can—still a few moments too early, and my shoulder burns as blood trickles down my backside.

The double doors open as soon as the last robot hits the ground, and I collapse with it to the floor. My hand hovers over my left shoulder as it burns, but I don't dare to touch it, and there's no comfortable position that I can assume to assuage the pain. So I wait as a couple of the agents come and help me up, and take me to the medical wing of the facility.

It takes a bit of time and delicate effort to replace my suit with the medical robes, and Nat and Clint don't come to visit until after I'm all stitched up and perched on one of the small beds—ready to leave, after they come talk to me. I look over at them as they cross the small hall toward me, following them with my eyes as I cross my legs underneath me.

"Well, that was sloppy," says Nat. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I nod. "I know, it was stupid, I should've been keeping an eye on my surroundings."

"Yeah you should've. Mistake like that can cost you a whole lot more than a cut on the back of your shoulder."

I frown as I look down at the floor, and in the corner of my eye, I see Clint tilting his head slightly. "What's the matter with you?" I blink up at him, seeing his disapproving expression as he crosses his arms. "You've got your first mission in a week's time and, what, are you freaking out or something?"

Nat turns and looks at him over her shoulder. "What mission? That thing's not going to heal overnight, we can't send her out there."

Damn. I forgot about the mission—my first 'undercover' gig with A.I.M. Of course, given that A.I.M thinks I'm also working undercover for them, it's more of a sting operation on S.H.I.E.L.D's part. Earning A.I.M's trust was a tricky manner, and I have no doubt that they continue to watch over me, but my dalliances at Stark tower and at the facility are much more plausible to them now—especially with the carefully controlled 'insider' information that I provide them.

Both of them are quiet for a moment, until Clint looks over at Nat again. "What about that serum stuff that Stark mentioned? The regenerative one?"

She shrugs. "It's only a prototype."

"Does it work?"

"Worked on who they've tried it on so far."

"Okay," Clint nods toward me. "Let's try it on her too, then. Do they have some here?"

Nat shakes her head. "There wasn't much after the trial was done, and I think Stark took it with him. If anything it'll be in the tower now, but he's still out of town, I think."

Clint glances at me. "Alright, well let's stop by there anyway. We can drop you off after," he says to me. "But Thor's staying there, we can catch up while we're at it."

"Yeah, so is Loki," Nat murmurs, and tension flutters through Clint's jaw as he opens his mouth to speak.

"No," I interject, shaking my head. "No, I'll be fine."

I know exactly what serum they're talking about, and even know exactly where Tony keeps it. In fact, I'd go as far as saying he was stashing some of it.

They both furrow a brow at me. "What?" says Nat.

"I don't want to go to Stark tower and take something without Tony or Pepper being there," I lie, sliding my legs off the bed. "I'll just ask Pepper to bring me some later."

Clint narrows his eyes at me. "They won't back for a few days, and that thing's going to hurt like a bitch until then. I seriously doubt that Stark will care, it's not really even his to take-"

"I'll deal with it," I murmur. "Just take me home."

Nat and Clint exchange confused glances before conceding. "Fine, whatever," Clint shrugs.

* * *

It took a stupid amount of energy to get into a t-shirt when I got home. Every little movement had me feeling like the stitches would come apart, even though the medic assured me that it'd be fine. Not to mention the pain—which is obviously the worst part, and the toughest to deal with, while pretending I had a perfectly normal day.

Tonight was supposed to be movie night at home—it still is, but I can't even hold up my bowl of take-out udon noodle soup properly, so I've ended up sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, scooping out noodles with my right hand. My left arm droops motionlessly at my side, and the knowledge of Lalita sitting just behind me on the sofa becomes more nerve wracking by the minute, since the thought of her accidentally kicking my shoulder is beyond disconcerting.

I couldn't tell her to be careful either, since I haven't told any of them about what happened today. I have no idea how I'd even explain it to them, so I'd decided on the way home that I would do my best to keep it a secret—hopefully until Pepper finally came over with the regenerating serum…

With the pace I'm going at, the soup has already cooled to a lukewarm temperature halfway into the movie. I stare blankly up at at the TV perched on the wall, while the Haunted Mansion blares from the surrounding speakers. No one can dissuade me that it's a timeless classic, and with all my roommates and the noodles combined, this makes for a pretty nice ending to a shitty day.

It'd be better, of course, if my shoulder wasn't secretly burning—but I suppose that'd just be greedy.

A quiet knock appears at the door, shocking us all briefly as Andy gets up to answer it—since it's probably the pizza he ordered, without offering to share. I glance over my shoulder momentarily, and turn back to the TV. I hang my head over slightly as I continue watching Eddie Murphy's movie wife get chased down the hallway by a lovesick ghost, when somewhere in my distant attention, I hear Andy stutter. "Oh—_hello,_" he says.

As I scoop another spoonful of soup into my mouth, I furrow a brow at the odd change in his tone. I turn my head toward the door, while a familiar voice answers him unexpectedly—"_Hi._"

Amidst the flash of emerald green and blazer coated-figure standing at the door, I suddenly choke—allowing a fine mist of chicken-flavored udon soup to erupt from my mouth. My roommates grimace while my shoulder stings violently as I double over, coughing up the half-mouthful of liquid that went down the wrong pipe. My eyes water as I try to cease the sharp movements immediately, digging my fingernails into the carpet desperately as I calm my spasming chest, and turn glaringly toward Loki's plain expression staring at me from the doorway.

Loki raises a hand and gestures to me casually, donning a small, cardboard box in his hand. "I'm here for Cerys."

"Oh," Andy nods, stepping to the side. "_Oh sure_—and you are…?"

"Loki," he responds politely as he strides into the apartment.

I glare up at him for a moment—trying actively to prevent my eyes from widening with shock—and then glance down in horror at my decidedly silky, thin pajama shorts and fuzzy socks. Andy closes the door behind him as he saunters toward the living room, while Janie, Lalita, and Rita all stare at him mesmerized.

With his hands in his pockets, he strolls over to the couches, and his legs appear in the corner of my vision, drawing my attention toward. I turn and look up, blinking a few times just to be sure that I'm actually seeing Loki standing just a few feet away.

"Wh—what're you doing here?" I murmur, trying to stifle the shock in my voice.

He holds up the cardboard box, and rattles something inside it. "Barton and Romanoff send their regards," he says.

My jaw drops a little, and I look between him and the box a few times before mustering a sound.

"_Um…_" I pause, looking around at the mess I'd made on the table, and nod decidedly as I scramble to my feet—using one arm. "_Okay,_ just, okay—come on, this way…" I murmur, pulling my shorts down imperceptibly as I step around the couch where Lalita is, aiming to avoid brushing past him.

Loki turns as I walk around his backside, and follows me toward the hallway. Panic bolts through me as I suddenly realize that the last time I turned this corner with him, I was still living in the big room. Now I'm about to turn the corner again, with his heavy footsteps trailing behind me—_to his old bedroom? Not a chance_.

"_Bathroom_," I murmur sharply as I turn to my right, opening the door to it.

Loki follows me into the rectangular space without the slightest hint of confusion or question, and he pushes on the wood of the door, closing it gently behind him as he steps inside.

"I heard you were injured," he says matter-of-factly, turning toward me.

I shake my head irritably. "Occupational hazard," I answer sharply, lowering my voice so the others don't hear. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Loki responds calmly, "Interesting story, really. Barton wasn't particularly thrilled to see me when he and Agent Romanoff made their unexpected visit. The situation was rather tense, made more so as they explained your _strange _aversion to joining them for the occasion, so… Two birds, as they say."

Color tinges my cheeks. "_Swell_," I murmur as I look away, feeling a pounding headache start to rise with the pressure of bending my head downward.

As embarrassing as it is to have my avoidance outed, it does nothing for making this current setting feel the remotest bit okay. Hell, if I caught wind that Michael's ex-girlfriend showed up to his apartment, and that the two of them disappeared to the bathroom for some time… _God_, I wouldn't know what to think, but the idea of making Michael feel that kind of discomfort is abhorrent.

Granted, Michael knows nothing of my history with Loki, _the Avenger's brother_, nor do any of my roommates. One statement alone could lead to so many conversational tangents… too many.

"Alright," he sighs, snapping my attention back as he pulls the box from his pocket, and opens it. "I suppose I should administer what I've come here for, shouldn't I?"

I stare at him for a moment and finally nod, crossing my arms carefully as I step closer to him.

Loki draws a small vial and deconstructed syringe from the box. I shift uncomfortably as I watch him take out the contents, and open the twist-off vial. His face contorts as he takes a whiff of the serum, and shakes his head. "This is putrid."

I furrow a brow at him. "So?"

His eyes flicker up to me. "Well," he mutters. "I've seen this serum used before, it will take several more days to regenerate the tissue fully."

I shake my head. "…okay—so what?"

Loki's brow rises as he slides his gaze down to it. He presses his lips together knowingly, and then releases them. "I might offer a counterproposal."

I narrow my eyes. "What counterproposal?"

His eyes dart back up to me. "The injury—as Barton described it, I could probably regenerate it myself in a matter of minutes," he says casually, re-packaging the components without consulting any further.

"How?"

"Magic."

My brows knit together. "_Magic?_"

"Yes," he answers briskly, nodding without a hint of jest or amusement in his expression. "_Magic_."

My headache throbs, and I raise a hand up to rub my temple as I stare at him warily. "_Um_…" I shake my head, dropping my arm back down. "Alright, well… okay, go ahead then," I pause irritably, gesturing to myself. "Have at it."

"I'll need to examine the wound first," he answers sternly, sliding his hands back in his pockets.

I press my lips together, and my face sinks uncomfortably. "_It's, um…_" I murmur protestingly. "It's on my shoulder, toward the back."

"Alright," Loki shrugs as he crosses his arms, loosening a hand to motion to my shirt. "Off you go, then."

Silence.

My eyes harden as I stare at him dumbfounded. He returns the look with an annoyingly blank expression, and for a moment, I could swear we were having a staring contest.

"_No,_" I assert, shaking my head. "Just use the potion."

Loki lowers his chin. "You understand that I can handle this much more efficiently, don't you? And there'll be no need to hide your movements from your roommates."

"_Loki_," my voice drops menacingly, and I tilt my head at him. "Do you seriously think that I'm about to take my shirt off in front of you?" my cheeks tint involuntarily at the thought, but Loki's remain pale and composed.

With his arms still crossed, Loki's expression is taut as he lowers his chin responsively. "Nothing I haven't seen before," he says matter-of-factly.

I shake my head, rubbing the bridge of my nose as my cheeks flush red—whether from anger or… something else, I just don't know.

"Okay, you know what_, just…_" I let out a breath, and motion for him to step aside. "_Ugh._ Just wait here," I say as I stalk past him, closing the bathroom door slightly as I step out—enough so that he won't see which room I'm about to go into.

_Robe._ Got to find my robe.

I sigh at my only option hanging in Loki's tiny, old closet—the short, fluffy robe that came with these shorts. I might've invested in a bigger one if I ever thought I'd need it, but I've always changed into my clothes straight after showering.

It takes several more minutes to actually get the shirt off, but having the robe on instead turns out to be a considerable improvement—so much lighter and easier to put on. I saunter back toward the bathroom, where I find Loki leaning against the wall between the towels and the shower curtain.

"Okay," I murmur as I step in, and he straightens up from the wall. I turn and face the mirror, raising my chin as I watch his reflection like a hawk. I loosen the belt of the robe slightly, and his eyes remain appropriately fixed on my shoulder—save for one fleeting moment, when he glances down at the empty counter.

I wince as I slide the robe off my shoulder, while simultaneously raising the front side to cover myself up. Loki's eyes narrow at the wound as he comes up behind me, and he tilts his head slightly, hesitantly reaching up to my neck with a hand, and then lowering it again.

"Please move your hair," he mutters, glancing decidedly at me in the mirror.

I curl my fingers around the left side of my neck, pulling my curls forward. My breath hitches in my throat as Loki takes my arm, steadying me while he observes it carefully.

"What type of threading is this?" he asks, and I swallow hard as I feel his thumb rub the skin just below the wound.

"What do you mean?" I ask, briefly scanning his tall stature standing just behind me in the mirror.

"I must heal the tissue surrounding it, but I would need to remove it first."

"I think it's the self-absorbing kind."

He pauses. "If that's the case," his thumb disappears as he raises his hand, and hovers it above the wound. "Then I shall leave it."

I nod, exhaling heavily through my nostrils, and trying to get some semblance of the breeze to blow under my cheeks. All the while, the rest of my concentration veers toward not clenching my newly toned shoulder muscles, as well as my biceps under his grip.

My shoulder begins to burn as heat emanates from the center of his hand, which is fully ensconced by a pale, green light. As the warmth grows to a blisteringly hot temperature, Loki's evaluating eyes flicker up to meet mine in the mirror. I remain expressionless, and only shift uncomfortably when the heat becomes truly unbearable—at which point, he looks back down at my shoulder, and the heat abates a bit.

My legs start to tire after a few moments of tense silence, and Loki finally murmurs, "So…" he pauses. "Settled in my old room now, are you?"

Tension ripples through my neck and jaw. My eyes widen slightly as they dart up toward him, and waves of adrenaline rejuvenate every inch of me that they bolt through. I stare up at him as he continues looking at his work—face and voice completely void of any emotion. "_What?_"

Loki merely raises a brow in response, giving me a pointed look through the mirror, indicating the futility of trying to deny it. My heart races with a fell panic as I look away from him, trailing my eyes down my own robe as I shake my head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Naturally," he says smoothly. "I assume you haven't discussed it with anyone else, either."

Resentment seeps throughout my chest as I cast a glare up toward him. "I _don't _talk about it."

Loki lowers his chin as he turns his attention back to my shoulder, and a faint limpness sweeps through me as his breath fans my neck.

"There," he finally says. "All done."

I turn my shoulder slowly, cringing at the small, tugging bits of string left unabsorbed under my skin. Uncomfortable as that is, at least the pain is gone.

I pull the sleeve back up my shoulder as I step away, and in the corner of my eye, I watch his face turn slowly as he watches me.

I saunter over to the door, and turn slowly to look back up at him. "It feels better—thanks," I say as I lean back against the counter.

Loki bobs his head approvingly, studying my face for a moment. "How are you?" he asks suddenly, with notes of sincerity sweeping through his baritone voice, and he gestures toward me with his hand. "Apart from this."

I glance down at his chest, and shrug my healthy shoulder. "I'm good," I answer simply, and we fall back into silence. "What about you? And… Thor, Sif? Heimdall?"

Loki nods. "Also well," he pauses, parting his lips hesitantly as he holds my gaze. "I've grown tired of hearing how they've missed you terribly."

I drop my eyes to the linoleum floor. "Yeah, I've missed them too." I murmur, turning my head to my right—as if there's something for me to look at along the wood of the door.

"You ought to come see my brother," he says, and I slide my gaze back to him. "He told me to ask you."

I nod, swallowing lightly. "How long are you guys going to be in town?"

"Not sure yet," he answers briskly. "We were hoping to stay some time."

_Sounds familiar._

The timeline of our relationship zips through my mind sharply, re-hashing the painful disappointment of having them leave, 'some time' after their arrival on earth.

"Let him know I'll come see him," I say, turning and reaching for the doorknob. Loki hesitates for a moment as he watches me step out into the hallway, but he follows me out all the same.

"I'll do that," he mutters as he steps past me at a brisk pace, and stalks down the hallway without looking back. I follow after him with a cool, purposeful stride, and he pauses at the front door, looking back.

His emerald eyes snap coldly toward mine, and I nearly stumble to a stop behind him as I hold his gaze.

"Good seeing you, Cerys," he says, and nods to the rest of the company before opening the door for himself, and disappearing over the threshold.

I sigh as I lock the door behind him, still hearing his heavy footsteps trailing down the hall on the other side. My eyes widen as I turn toward the silence in the living room, at the four pairs of eyes staring at me intently.

"What?" I shrug freely.

"_Who the fuck was that?_" Andy asks firsts, in a deeply flustered voice.

"That was…" I pause. "My old roommate."

"That hot piece used to live here!?" Rita asks. "Did you jump his bones?"

"Nope," I lie as I shake my head, and saunter through the kitchen, turning my head far to the right while grabbing a paper towel, and running it under water on my way back to the table.

"Whose room did he live in?"

"Um…" I mumble as I stare down at the bright, glossy table, and wipe down the faintest hints of my misty outburst. "Mine."

Andy raises a brow as he exchanges a glance with Lalita. "Ohhh, shit…"

I give them a pointed look. "What?"

Lalita raises a glass of water to her lips as she gestures to the door. "You sure you were just roommates?"

My faces reddens. "What does that mean?"

An amused grin tugs on the corner of her mouth. "Ehhh, just saying—roommates don't check out each other's asses," she says, stifling a laugh. "Or choke on their soup when they see each other."

What?" my brows bolt up. "Was he…?"

"I saw him do it," she nods.

"Okay, well, I check out people's asses too, and I'd choke for any of you guys too, if I hadn't seen you in two years. Doesn't mean anything. We're just friends."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rita and Andy exchange glances. I look between them pointedly, shaking my head as I lower myself down onto the carpet, and gesture to the remote on the other side of the table.

"Play the movie!" I say casually, trying to disperse the atmosphere as thoroughly as my appetite's been dispersed.

* * *

**Oh my GOD you guys, I was hardcore wishing that this site had a way for me to update you guys to let you know that I was so goddamn excited while writing this chapter, and so damn excited to show you guys when it was done! Even though I know everything that's going to happen, I fangirl along with you guys every time I sit down to write a chapter, just to see the exact details of everything that goes down as the story progresses. Housebabe1, I smiled particularly when I read your comment about Cerys hiding behind alcohol in the previous chapter - it wasn't subtle, but I wasn't sure if anyone would pick up on it, so I commend you for doing that! I'd already planned there to be a sharp contrast to that in the next chapter, because there'd be no chance for her to calm her nerves before seeing him again. **

**Guyssss, I'm dying for the next chapter already. So Cerys _is_ definitely more carefree, relaxed and fun (-MommaWolf18!) in my mind, but now it's becoming Loki's turn to show how he's changed over the past two years - I wonder if anyone's picked up on _those_ hints already. ;) **

**I suppose that's all for now. Til next time, my darlings. Also, SentOverSummer, extra love to you too, my dear. I was shaking for this chapter as well. I was so moved by that comment, it really made my day. Lots of little shoutouts in today's AN, but you guys gave so much for me to respond to! Thank you for that****. I sincerely hope you enjoyed their little reunion, and that the story's drawing you in as deep as it is me. I can tell you guys right now, this book's going to be like God and the Siren kicked up a few notches. It's gonna be intense, and I'm not just talking about the 'danger' aspects. Cheers to that, amiright? See you all next time! **


	4. Chapter 4: Do better, asshole

The idea of visiting Thor in Stark tower by myself was daunting, so instead, I invited the others to come here for a visit. The invitation included Tony and Pepper, as well as Thor and Loki by extension. For the past day or so, I've been racking my brain trying to decide whether to invite Michael, and in the end, I finally decided that the idea was the lesser of two evils. It'd be fine—especially considering the fact that our small get-together has now somehow turned into a larger kickback of sorts.

Oh, the benefits of having college roommates…

Thankfully, the apartment is large enough for a number of people to break off into social groups, and still leave plenty of space in between. Though I can't imagine Iron Man at a college kickback, I'd given Pepper and Tony the heads up well in advance about the nature of the occasion, in case it'd crossed their minds to dress all fancy. By the time they arrive, I'm several glasses into the bottle of Chardonnay I'd bought earlier today—a limit for the night that I'd set for myself, since I shouldn't be drinking at all this close to a mission. It works just fine for taking the edge off though, so I'm satisfied.

Taking one last swig of what's left in my glass, I pivot when a quiet knock comes at the door. Michael reaches out and tugs on a small section of my high pony tail as I walk by, swaying my head to the music playing at an appropriate volume, and narrows his handsome eyes to a sultry width, giving an endearingly suggestive scan down the length of my backside. Noting, no doubt, the plain, skin tight purple top, and my usual thick, black leggings—which are actually beginning to wear out from how frequently I use them.

I kick my foot up and pat him gently on the leg before swiveling back around, and heading toward the door. Grinning happily at my perfectly achieved level of inebriation, I open it up to see four familiar faces chatting amongst themselves.

Pepper is the first to greet me on the way in, followed by Tony. At the sight of Thor's big, goofy smile, I throw my hands up. "THOR!"

"Cerys!" he returns the enthusiasm, snaking his arms underneath me and lifting me up into a bear hug.

"Oh my god I missed you so much," I swing my feet back and forth in the air for a moment, until he sets me down. I step back a little with a bit of a stumble, and behind him, I see Loki glancing absently between us, and tension ripples in his jaw as he saunters by.

I clear my throat awkwardly and step away, making room for Thor to enter the apartment as well, and shut the door behind him. I'd expected Thor to stay behind from the rest of the company, and so he does—while the others stroll further into the dispersed crowd.

I raise a brow at the way Tony throws his hands up in a greeting, and even more so at the enthusiasm with which my roommates leap up to greet him and Pepper together. Though Loki is the strangest of all at this moment—I've never seen him so attached to either of them before, and I tilt my head at the sight of his enthused acquainting with the others, narrowing my eyes as he goes so far as accepting a beer from Rita.

Thor interrupts my thoughts. "How are you, old friend?" he asks, and I look over at him, returning the warm grin.

"Oh I'm good, I'm _really_ good—I mean, I'd be better if I saw you at all these past two years, but… Aw hell, whatever—I just missed you! How've you been all this time? How's Norway?"

Thor chuckles as he gives me a nod, "Norway is beautiful," he goes on as we saunter toward the kitchen, where I pick up a beer to hand him. "It's quite a bit different than New York in practically every way—and everyone knows our names there, our histories. It's a bit strange, especially when you're trying to make some polite conversation, and the other person already knows so much about you."

"Well, I imagine it gets that way with just being an Avenger, right? Being famous and all?" I shrug, casting a glance imperceptibly in the others' direction.

Our ample furniture allows almost everyone to be sitting, and a circle of people has pointedly formed around Pepper and Tony—even Loki, as he sits beside them off to the side.

I narrow in briefly at the way that Rita goes and sits a bit closer to him than any of the others. He looks over at her briskly, and grins politely as she starts making conversation—flipping her chocolatey brown hair over her shoulder.

"You might think it to be the case," Thor's voice snaps me back to the present. "But it's not nearly the same."

"Yeah, I wouldn't know though, huh?" I smile at him, leaning over the counter to fill a glass of water. "How're Sif and Heimdall doing?"

"Good," he says. "Heimdall especially, he seems to be more of a king to our people than I am."

"And Loki?" I ask before thinking, and in the corner of my eye, I see Loki's face trail in my direction briefly—without turning toward me fully—before resuming whatever conversation has him thoroughly involved with my roommate.

I swallow thickly as I look back at Thor, in time to see him look back over at me from Loki's direction. "He's also doing well, he—" Thor nods as he parts his lips to add something more, but then decides against it. "He's been an enormous help, assumed his responsibilities quite aptly."

"Good, good," I bob my head, sipping the water—letting the briskness cool my cheeks.

Just as Thor is about to say something else, another voice interrupts him, "Oh crap, you're Thor, aren't you!?" I blink as I recognize Michael's voice, and he suddenly appears at my side, eyes widened with enthusiasm as he holds a hand out to Thor.

"That I am," Thor booms proudly, glancing at Michael's arm appearing around my shoulder as he takes the outstretched hand. "Have we met before?"

"Oh no, no," Michael shakes his hand, and recoils slightly as he grins down at me, the corners of his eyes turnt upward in a kindly manner as he steps behind me just a bit, as though to goad me on to introduce him properly.

"This is Michael," I gesture to him as I peer up at Thor, hoping my widened eyes are enough to feign enthusiasm. "My boyfriend!"

For a brief instant, Thor's smile abates just a bit as he stares at me surprisedly, almost as though no one had clarified to him I was seeing someone—although I'd thought that day at the festival was pretty indicative, to everyone else at least… Maybe he was drunk?

"Oh, how charming," he says, gesturing to us. "How did you two meet?"

"She's the Academy's choreographer, and I was pretty new around the time she started, so we just got to talking, and… yeah!" he nods.

Thor raises a brow at me. "Ah, so that job did turn out then, did it?"

I tilt my head with a nod. "It did!" I look over at Michael, gesturing to Thor. "Yeah we go way back, he knew me when I was just applying," I pause briefly, second guessing how much information I ought to divulge. "And he was one of my roommates too, along with some other people—Heimdall, Sif and Loki. They lived here before moving to Norway!"

"Wow, that's _really_ cool!" Michael says to him, and my brows rise a bit at his reaction.

"Indeed," Thor continues, casting me a knowing look. "And we shall have to come and see your production sometime."

I nod as my jaw hangs open. "Oh, is… I hope you guys are sticking around long enough for that?"

"Yes," he sighs relaxedly a bit, trailing his eyes downward just a bit as he nods. "We'll be here for quite some time, yes."

I bob my head slowly as thoughts zip through my head—hopefully unnoticeable from the surface. "That's great, that's…" I pause, looking over at the counter, and the sound of Loki's chuckle somewhere deep in the music draws my eyes up to him. I blink as I watch him take Rita's phone into his hand, and punch something into it. I shake my head briskly as I look between Michael and Thor, and gesture to the living room. "Let's go catch up with the others, yeah?"

"Sure," Thor nods, and follows myself and Michael into the living room.

Meanwhile, my throat sinks further and further into my chest as I realize that it really may not have been the _best_ idea to invite both Loki and Michael to this thing—especially as Michael pulls me into his lap unwittingly.

I chew my lip slightly as I look over at Tony and Pepper, tuning in to the conversation as I tacitly note Loki's lack of a reaction to Michael's display of affection—followed by a sharp bite as I remind myself that it's really not my concern. If Michael were having such thoughts about another woman, it'd probably break my heart.

_Fuck it,_ I murmur inwardly as I take Michael's beer out of his hands and throw some back.

That last thought alone was enough for me to get pissed at myself, and I decide right then and there that this is the last night that I'll put myself—or Michael, or Loki—in this situation. Loki came, I saw him, we said hello, he even came to this party—all's good and well in the world of pleasantries and civility. No more reason for me to see him after tonight.

* * *

"Shit…" I mumble as I lean on Pepper to my left. There's less than a handful of people left at the party, and by the time people start shuffling out the door, I start realizing that I really drank way more than I intended to—which is becoming a habit, it seems…

_Damn. _Another issue to add to my list of things to deal with.

With Michael to my right, I sigh as I roll my head against the back of the couch, loosely paying attention to the ongoing conversation about our political climate—how it has, and hasn't changed over the past two years. And by the time it's over, I couldn't be happier. It's a shame, really. I'd had higher hopes for how the night would go, though maybe I shouldn't have.

No—no, I really shouldn't have.

I press my lips together as I consider the way I'd tried to justify the evening, how dumb it was for me to think that the night would play out the way it did in my head. I thought I'd be much more engaged in the conversation than I was, and I thought that having Loki and Michael in the same room would be fine—maybe even a bit satisfying on my end, if I'm being perfectly honest with myself, since I still feel glimmers of bitterness about the way things ended between us. Guess that bitterness came back to bite me in the ass, and I deserve the discomfort and twinges of guilt I've gotten instead.

Rightfully so. I shouldn't have done this—not to Loki, not to myself, and not to Michael, even though he has no clue.

_Do better, asshole,_ I tell myself inwardly, even as I slide my gaze imperceptibly over Loki and Rita, and then avert it back to Michael beside me. I rest my head against his shoulder, trying to ensconce myself in the security I feel—and have always felt—with him.

Although the sounds go on around me, I doze off for a bit, waking only when the last bits of people start to leave. Loki barely looks in my direction as he stands, and saunters past Rita with the others. With Michael in tow, we stroll lazily behind them all.

"It was good seeing you again, Lady Cerys," Thor says as he hugs me goodbye.

Pepper and Tony do the same, while Loki merely nods in my direction as he backs up closer to the door, giving Michael a quick sidelong glance over his shoulder. I watch as he turns and walks back out into the hallway.

"I'll text you," Pepper mumbles as she leans in to my ear briefly, and I nod affirmatively in turn.

The goodbyes continue on for a few moments, but I look away before it ends—before they all fully disappear around the threshold. And when Andy to closes the door behind them, I sigh a breath of relief at the night's end.

"Hey babe, you okay?" Michael asks suddenly, and I blink up at him.

"What?"

"You seem a little off," he says, turning to follow me down the hallway, and tucking a strand of hair away that came loose from my pony tail.

"Oh," I murmur, shaking my head. "No, I'm fine. Just tired," I take his hand. "Let's go to bed?"

"Sure," he nods, and I tuck my arm over his. "By the way… You didn't mention that you lived with some of the Asgardians a while ago."

"Didn't I?" I give him a pointed look.

"Yeah, so there were… guys and all, and Thor was one of em?"

"Yup," I nod, pressing my lips together. "We were besties."

"So… You and Thor, nothing ever happened between you two?"

I widen my eyes as I look up at him, shaking my head. "Oh God no, he's… we're just friends, we've only ever been just friends. Seriously, you have nothing to worry about. Nothing's ever happened."

Okay, technically a lie by omission—but opening up the can of worms about sleeping with one of my roommates would be disastrous. I never even referred to Loki as my boyfriend, that automatically puts Michael above him in the hierarchy of personal involvements. So that part's true—he has nothing to worry about.

"Oh, okay," he chuckles. "Okay cool, yeah—sorry, I'm tired. Let's just go to bed."

I squeeze his arm. "_Yes,_" I sigh. "And no worries, I'm tired too."

* * *

**Hey guys, serious question that I'd really like to get as many responses for as I can, so I can gauge whether or not this is something you'd want - how do you feel about getting some third person Loki POV in this story? With how I'm imagining it, I don't think it would take content away from the story, and I do think that it'd be entertaining for you guys, especially with the nature of some of the scenes I have planned out. **

**But, I want to know whether or not this is something that might seem interesting to you, because I've written this entire series through Cerys' eyes so far, and I don't want it to be too jarring for you all. Please, my loyal reviewers and beloved lurkers, your opinion matters on this, so let me know what you think about it (can leave a review or PM me, I don't mind either), because it'll probably affect how I start writing chapters immediately. I just don't want to go back and have people getting mad at me for changing the style when they didn't express their thoughts to me when I asked for it, so take this chance if you're for/against it. **

**Okidok, til next time. :) **


	5. Chapter 5: Under the light of my lamp

**Longest chapter yet! :) **

* * *

Today's the day, and I have a headache. Not a residual one from my intoxication a few nights ago, no—this one's one hundred percent anxiety-induced. My bowl of lucky charms isn't much in the way of comfort food, but I guess if I had pizza or something in the fridge, I'd probably be setting myself up for a pretty heavy, miserable night running around downtown. Assuming it even got to that, of course. My assignment involves infiltrating some high-end gala event, after which I'm supposed to corner some poor fool named Robert Heinecher, get some passcodes out of him—which are actually coordinates in tandem—and then gently ask him to forget that any of it happened.

S.H.I.E.L.D knows all about this operation of course, and they've already been in contact with Mr. Heinecher, who knows not to be afraid when a devilishly handsome blonde chick shows up and presses a knife to his neck. It's all planned out to the smallest details, even the facilities are prepared with false-information to be stolen in the next phase, but… hell, I can't shake the feeling that something has to go wrong. It always does. Even in the movies.

"Hey!" a voice startles me in the middle of scrolling through my Facebook feed, and I bite down sharply on my current mouthful of cereal as Rita saunters around the kitchen aisle, and goes straight for the fridge. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I shrug. "Breakfast, the usual."

"Okay," she suddenly turns as she closes the door, with nothing in her hands, and plops them down on the counter in front of me. "So I've actually gotta talk to you about something."

Something twists in my gut as I stare at her pointedly, slowly bearing down again on the cereal in my mouth. "And what's that?" I say, my voice muffled a bit.

"Okay so I was talking to that guy, Loki, the one that came by the house? I kinda started talking to him 'cause I figured, since you said you were just friend, and he seemed like he was pretty into me, that it was fine, right?" my throat constricts further and further. "So I asked for his phone number and then texted him, and we've kinda been talking, but I can't really tell if he's into me. And since you guys are friends, I just wanted to ask you," she pauses, pulling out her phone to show me some texts. "Is this normal for his text-talk?"

_Fri, 10:20 PM/Loki: Yes, I've just finished reading the chapter._

_Sat, 9:07 AM/Rita: Sorry yeah, I fell asleep last night. I've been meaning to get around to actually reading a book like that too, cuz I've seen so many movies about it, but I feel like people just don't read books anymore and I don't really want to contribute to that lol you know?_

_Sat, 9:40 AM/Loki: I understand. _

I stifle the temptation to smirk at his response—and her decidedly impressive effort to keep the conversation going.

_Sat, 10:32 AM/Rita: Hey so you'll be here around 8, right? _

_Sat, 10:47 AM/Loki: Yes. _

I stare at the texts for a brief moment, unsure of whether to feel nauseated or amused by Loki's snipped responses. But from the idea of her 'seeing' him tonight, my body decides to go with being slightly nauseated.

_Ugh._ It had to be tonight, though. Of all nights. While I'm on a super secret mission that requires my utmost concentration.

"So I can't tell if he's into me or not," she says, "He responds to all my texts pretty quick, so that's good, but I'm just like… confused, you know? He doesn't seem super enthusiastic to talk to me. What do you think?"

I raise a brow at her. "Are you asking me if I think he likes you?"

She nods. "I mean, guys are supposedly to be shitty at texting right? So it doesn't mean anything?"

I furrow a brow at her, rubbing my fingers together as I shift uncomfortably—trying to think of something to say. "Apart from the fact that he's hundreds of years old," I remark pointedly, half expecting that to deter her somewhat, so the sudden, enthusiastic eye-widening takes me back a bit.

"Holy shit, I didn't even think of hat," she says. "I'm going on a date with a _god,_ what the fuck…"

I'd wager to guess that the look on my face is somewhat akin to how it might be if I saw a cockroach in my cereal, though she doesn't seem to notice as her eyes drop back down at her phone. "Shit, shouldn't bang on the first date though…" she mumbles.

"'mkay, well, I gotta go," I murmur decidedly as I stand, dumping the rest of my cereal into the sink as my entire chest constricts maddeningly. "Have fun," I add on my way back to my room, texting Pepper on my way there.

_Sat,10:57 AM/Cerys: "Hey so, you said Loki didn't mention anything about Rita the other night in the car, right? Well apparently they're going on a date"_

The door hadn't slammed nearly as loudly as I thought it would, and I look back at it—glaring as I remember the conversation I'd literally had with myself just two nights ago. About how I would feel if some other woman set Michael's teeth on edge this way, how I'd decided that I wouldn't see Loki anymore, how I'd put as much distance between us as I possibly could—physically, and mentally. Because what would be the use of physically distancing myself if I didn't do so mentally as well?

_Sat, 11:06 AM/Pepper: "Yeah he didn't" _

_Sat, 11:07 AM/Pepper: "But Cer… Let them go if they want to, you shouldn't be thinking about them. You have a boyfriend and a life, and there's something important going on in it tonight, so think about that instead" _

I exhale lightly through my nostrils, nodding at my phone.

_Sat, 11:09 AM/Cerys: "Yeah, you're right" _

_Sat, 11:12 AM/Pepper: "Of course I'm right, quit acting like a lovesick teenager" _

_Sat, 11:12 AM/Pepper: "Seriously, get new roommates if it helps." _

I smirk, but my face blanches at the thought that follows.

_Sat, 11:17 AM/Cerys: "lol, if he takes her home then I might have to" _

_Sat, 11:23 AM/Pepper: "Stop that. Go relax" _

I press my lips together, and roll my eyes back slightly as I set the phone down. And to take my mind off things, on Pepper's orders, I spend the next few hours hours binge-watching the Big Bang Theory, until it's high time time for me to shower and high-tail it out the door.

With my hair tied up in an elegant, fluffy pony tail and simple blue dress trailing loosely around my knees, I throw on a black trench coat and make my way down to the street. From that point forward, it's a matter of finding the meeting spot—which isn't too difficult, it's just a couple of blocks down. Opting to travel in style, Yuriko and Pyreus pick me up in an outwardly inconspicuous looking black SUV—slightly bigger for its model—lined with a number of unexpected luxuries on the inside.

"Hey," I say, cringing a little as I slide into the seat beside a fourth member of our troupe—Alessei.

Not the type of guy to understand the meaning of 'back the fuck off' the first time I told him, nor the second. Seems he happens to truly believe that his gorgeous head of hair and striking jawline is enough to sway any dainty lady—dainty by his standards, anyway. I'd make his ears bleed if he came near me, and he knows it. If that's dainty, then I'm all fucking for it.

"Well hello there," he answers suggestively as he scans my legs, and I demonstrably shift into the opposite seat. "Ohhhh," he croons disappointedly. "Come on, really?"

"_Really_," I respond dryly, accepting a half-glass of wine from Yuriko as she smirks. "Everything good to go?"

"Good to go with us," Yuriko states as the car pulls away from the curb. "You?"

"Yup," I say, trailing the hem of my dress slightly to reveal a blade strapped to my thigh underneath—two, to be exact. One on each leg.

"Those look a little thin," she points out, taking the object beside her wrapped in a brown cloth and holding it up to me. "You sure you don't want one of these?"

I shake my head. "Better to fight what you're trained with, right?"

"Sure," she nods, setting it back down. "Those all you've been using?"

"From the start," I murmur against the glass, and take a delicate sip of it as Alessei leans forward in his seat.

"So we've got to be in and out within an hour, with those codes," he says, taking on a more professional tone.

"What're they for, again?" I ask.

"That's a need-to-know basis, and we don't need to know," Pyreus responds. I narrow my eyes at him a bit.

_Okay_, I murmur inwardly as I look out the window. With all the traffic of a Saturday night, it takes us quite some time to get across town. Though someone somewhere evidently accounted for that, and we end up arriving at the building just before nine o'clock.

"Alright, you all know what the plan is," Yuriko murmurs quietly as we saunter up to the building behind her, filing in with the small crowd.

I look back and forth at the plethora of finely dressed people trying to squeeze their way in through the doors in a civil manner, and the air around me gets hot very quickly. Thankfully it opens up once I'm inside the gala, where the rooftops stretch way high up above our heads, and the hall itself is lined with tall pillars.

As planned, it takes the better part of the hour for me to finally catch sight of Heinecher in the crowd. Though I continue sauntering about the vast space, mingling with the occasional drunk patron and feigning somewhat of an intent search for him, the clock nears ten when I suddenly see him heading toward the elevators. Which can only lead to the second floor—for those who are too lazy to take the stairs off to the side.

"_Elevators,_" I turn and whisper over my shoulder, invoking the voice so as to only reach the others.

I stalk toward him through the crowd, feeling a hint of panic rising with every step as I watch the doors close behind him—damn it, I was supposed to be in the elevator with him. I turn slightly to the right and head up the stairs instead, catching him in the hallway, surrounded by a number of suited men that I don't recognize. They also don't seem to recognize me, judging by the way they turn and stalk toward me.

"_Shit," _I mumble under my breath as I approach them, breathing a sigh of relief when I pass the elevator doors as they open, and my companions stride out into the hallway with me.

The suited men immediately react to our menacing approach, and within seconds, Heinecher backs away slowly from the scene as a fight breaks out. Fists fly, along with knives and heels as I disarm two of the men, probably rupturing a few spleens accidentally in the process. Well—not entirely accidentally. These men weren't supposed to be here, and I'm supposed to put on a convincing performance for the others.

I manage to break through the action finally, grabbing Heinecher by the throat and pushing him against the wall. "_Calm down,_" I pretend to invoke the voice once more—quietly, so the guards don't hear—sheathing my knives and pulling out a small recording device. "_You cooperate, and no one has to get hurt—I'm going to need the access codes to S.H.I.E.L.D facilities eight, twelve, and fifteen. You know which ones I'm talking about—and afterward, I'm going to need you to forget this conversation ever happened._"

"Y-yeah, yeah okay… Just, just please don't hurt me…" A glimmer of understanding flickers in his brown eyes, amidst his otherwise terrified expression. And rightfully so—planned or unplanned, it must be terrifying to watch my colleagues demolishing his security team.

"S—six, nine… t-twelve…" he mutters the numbers one by one as I hold my thumb against a recording device beside his mouth.

My eyes snap back to the scene behind me as one of Yuriko's knives fly to the ground. Damn, these guys are really going all out on this sting operation…

Yuriko cries out in a rage as she kicks the man backward, and I barely have time to react before another hand appears on my shoulder—tugging me away from Heinecher with a furious force. Enough to send me toppling back toward the others. I stumble onto the ground from the sheer momentum, due in no small part to the secondary fumbling of limbs and bodies that ensues when I collide with Yuriko and her opponent, and I gasp sharply when I feel a slight sting on the back of my right wrist, under the heavy weight of one of the guards.

After pushing him off, I look down to see someone's knife peppered with slivers of my blood, and I furrow a brow at the way they intermingle with little green splotches all over the blade.

"LET'S GO!" Pyreus cries, throwing the agents off of us. He and Allessei practically drag us backward onto my feet, and we run from the footsteps that break off after us shortly after.

Once again, the intricate planning of the mission proves successful as we descend into an alley through a nearby window, and bolt back to the SUV.

"Aw, _shit,_" I curse as I grab some napkins and start wiping the blood off my arm slowly—realizing at least, that it's hardly the worst injury that I'd gotten out of all of us. Everyone else is cut up pretty badly as well, but at least there aren't any bullet holes.

Yuriko reaches out and opens a small compartment underneath one of the seats, pulling out some gauze for each of us to wrap ourselves up with. "We got what we needed, yeah?" she asks as she hands one to me.

"Yeah," I nod as I hold out the recording device, feeling beads of sweat lining my forehead as I wait for my body to cool down.

"Good," she says, and nods as she turns to the others. "How the hell are they training them like that right now?"

I look between them absently as I feel a headache rise, and each subsequent breath feels hotter and hotter all the way home.

* * *

Loki sighed heavily as he received yet another text message from Rita—this time at five fifteen, mere hours before they were supposed to meet. Someone had warned him when he acquired this device, that it would open him up to a myriad of unwelcome conversations at all hours of the day, if he wasn't careful about who he handed his phone number off to.

_Sat, 5:15 PM/Rita: Yeah, like, my mom told me that back in the day they'd go off to this little cabin that we had (and I own it now technically), and they'd go to this beach with a giant harbor that a lot of people didn't really know about, and they'd get to see some of the ships and stuff docking during WWII_

_Sat, 5:16 PM/Rita: It was cray lol _

Loki furrowed a brow as he reviewed his previous text to her.

_Sat, 5:02 PM/Loki: Sounds very interesting. _

An awful lot of inference to be taken from three simple words—and ample invitation, it seems, to progress onward with the conversation most ardently.

He rolled his eyes as he set the device down on the small metal table, replacing it with tea in his hand as he trailed back over to the book in his hands—a book on all American-fought wars, which he'd made the mistake of telling Rita about. He was hardly sure of whether or not he could tolerate an entire evening with the woman, and he only hoped that she would be more tolerable in real life—as she was at Cerys' little get together in their home.

Surely this little outing would bother her. The fleeting image of her puckering expression was enough to draw a slight smile to Loki's mouth, and he sipped his tea once more. Though he knew that it hardly mattered. Rita was a nice girl, as was his impression when he'd first met her, but there wasn't much that could be done for the larger situation at hand—little did Cerys know that Loki and Thor had been given the opportunity to relocate permanently to the states, in honor of their services to national security. Or rather, their participation in the affairs of an organization that ensured said security. He need only accept the offer, tentative on their ability to travel back and forth to visit their people, and their continued 'employment' under S.H.I.E.L.D.

Considering the state of affairs that he'd returned to, however, Loki was beginning to feel that there wasn't much left here for him. His curiosity was sated, but his satisfaction with the overall situation was not. Not with the shock of witnessing Cerys galavanting with that moronic excuse of a man, who seemed inebriated each and every time he'd had the displeasure of seeing him—perhaps he was the cause of her newly found alcoholic tendencies?

He'd also noted the way she swayed under his arm at the festival, and the sharp contrast that it provided against her otherwise normal countenance when he'd visited the apartment to deliver the serum. By the end of the second night he'd found himself in that place, he regretted attending the celebratory occasion altogether—better to have stayed home and wondered what was happening in his absence, rather than go, and watch that other man draw her into his lap the way he did. Aggressively, at that—no gentility or appreciation in the gesture, none of the softness that a woman like Cerys deserved. If at all, in such cases, that kind of aggression could only be appropriately reserved for—

Loki shook his head briskly, interrupting the ensuing thought as he pressed his attention to the black and white words printed on the pages before him.

"…_and the attack on Pearl Harbor was widely regarded as the instigation of the US's involvement in the second world war…_" they read.

The cafe where Loki had stopped wasn't far from Cerys' apartment, so when the hour finally arrived for him to be on his way, it only took minutes for him to reach it. He'd worn the same, long coat that he did to the party, and all other occasions before that—the weather truly called for it.

Rita, on the other hand, was decidedly imprudent in her apparel. Granted, she looked rather lovely as she stepped out onto the steps in front of their building, but it was hardly the occasion for such a short skirt. Regardless of how it flaunted her straight legs. Loki stifled a smirk at the contrastingly warm coat she'd had thrown over her shoulders, and was slightly taken aback at the way her chin tucked under slightly as she approached him.

"Hey," she murmured rather shyly—quite different from how she was a few nights back.

"Hello," he smiled in turn. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's do it!" her cheeks flushed as she grinned sweetly, giving Loki some immediate sense of satisfaction by her obvious attraction to him.

The car took them to a nearby restaurant—the only one that Loki was familiar with in the area—and relinquished them to the sidewalk after several minutes of idle smalltalk. The fact that it was considerably more difficult to engage in a real, verbal conversation was rather shocking to Loki, in light of how enthusiastic and loquacious she'd been over text just a few hours earlier.

"So I was talking to Cerys a few days ago," Rita says as Loki takes a bite of the slimy morsels that Cerys had introduced him to some years ago—Chinese, she called it—sweet and sour chicken. "And she mentioned that you guys all lived together, so was that when all the other Asgardians were in town?"

"That's right," Loki nodded, quirking a brow up as he looked at her.

Rita pulled her lip to the side regretfully. "Well I heard what happened to you guys, it was completely unfair," she pointed to him with her fork. "You know there were actually some protests against it—I went to those."

"Did you, now?"

"Mhm," she perked up a bit.

"Well that's very kind of you," he went on. "There wasn't much of that going around for us back then."

"Yeah, I bet it really sucked," she looked down and took a sip of her soup. "How've things been over in Norway?"

"It's quite nice. Small country, but never a boring day. If you ask my brother, he'll tell you the same."

"Oh yeah, Thor's your brother—did he live at the apartment too?"

"He did."

"Cool," she giggles as she looks back down. "How did Cerys end up living with you guys? She never mentioned it."

"Her apartment was robbed," Loki stated plainly without looking up at her. "Twice, and she needed a new home. Stark is our landlord, so he was more than happy to let her stay with us. You might say we were all on the same page, in that regard."

"Oh," she murmured. "I see, did you guys have to shift rooms for her?"

His eyes flickered up to her, and he hesitated only briefly as he considered the extensive rumors that could spread. "No—I occupied Cerys' current room, and she took the one down the hall, which we'd reserved for guests," he answered, and movement flickered in the woman's brow as she noticed the subtle change in his voice.

"Oh, that must suck to come back and see someone else living in it," she remarked.

Loki narrowed his eyes on her, realizing that Cerys had omitted the details of their prior relationship. "Not at all," he went on, indulging the hint of a mischievous grin tugging on his lip. "She spent quite a bit of time in there as it was—we were very close, you see."

In the corner of his eye, he noticed how the woman's movements ceased slightly. "Oh, how… how do you mean?" she asked hesitantly, and he looked up, feigning a look of sincerity as the flicker of envy spurred his ego a bit.

"Well Cerys was a _dear_ friend to all of us, we were all quite fond of each other," he went on, careful not to divulge any information that might quench the gossip that'd surely ensue after tonight. "Naturally, we spent a lot of time in each others' company. If my old living space were to go to anyone, I'm glad it went to her."

Rita nodded reluctantly as Loki turned his attention back down to his food. Thus was the most entertaining conversation of the night concluded, and moments later, Loki was rather grateful for the idea of being back at home soon, in the peace of his own company.

By the end of the night, the car returned and brought them back to Rita's apartment, where they noticed that another was parked before the building. Loki furrowed a brow at the large vehicle as they drove by, and opted to park some ways away instead, under the guise of going on a final stroll for the night.

At first, the woman acted hesitantly, as she'd also clearly seen the strange, large car parked in front of her home. But she seemed to relinquish some of her nerves when she slid an arm underneath Loki's elbow—home was only just around the corner, but once they approached the building, their idle chatter ceased rather suddenly.

Loki in particular, came to an abrupt halt that stifled Rita in her tracks. He stared ahead for a moment, startled by the sight of Cerys sauntering toward the steps, swaying slightly as she gripped one of the railings tightly and leaned against it. She seemed to be struggling to stay upright, and her free hand was busy at work on her phone.

"Is… Is that Cerys?" Rita mumbled, seeming just as shocked by the state of her roommate as he was.

Her skin was pale, even taking on a bit of a blueish hue, and with each passing moment, she seemed less and less able to stand upright without swaying back and forth. It took her a moment to realize that he and Rita were approaching once again, and she flinched when they got close—revealing the layer of sweat that had built up along her knitted brows.

"Loki…R-Rita," she breathed out.

Color drained from Loki's stoic face as the putrid tang of activated poison coated his nostrils, and he swallowed thickly as he scanned Cerys' length—looking for some source of the smell.

"Cerys" he murmured darkly. "What happened?"

She parted her lips to speak, but instead, she exhaled sharply as his eyes landed on her bandaged wrist. Panic flooded Loki's limbs as he watched her phone slip from her fingers as she slid to the ground, landing on the steps.

Rita gasped as Loki tore away from her side, his knees colliding with the steps as he fell to her side, pushing her back gently so he could see her face.

"_Cerys_," he commanded sharply as he took her soft cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs over them. Pain gripped his chest as she struggled to keep her eyes open. "Stay awake now, do you hear me? Tell me what happened."

"_Loki…_" she wheezed out as she clasped the sleeves of his coat weakly with her left hand, unfazed by his proximity as he pulled her upward, and cast her eyes down to her wrist. "_My… hand…"_

Loki took her wrist in his hand as she rested her head against his shoulder, and slowly unraveled the bandage, while Rita came up behind them. He held it up before him, careful not to grip it tightly, and narrowed his steady eyes on the green and purple veins visible under the lamplight, stretching outward from a small cut in her skin.

"Holy shit, is she okay!? Should I call 911!?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"_No,_" Cerys answered, while Loki slid his gaze down to her, at the unexpected burst of energy. "No—Pepper," she said, starting to pant. With a sharp exhale, she tilted her head back against him once more. "_Call Pepper_."

Loki's eyes flickered toward her hand as she reached for her phone, without grabbing it. He took it into his hands instead, reading the texts on the brightly lit screen:

_Sat, 10:47 PM/Pepper: I know which ones you're talking about, I don't know why they had them. They're supposed to be prototypes, they weren't supposed to use them in the field. I'm out the door, don't fall asleep_

He pressed his lips together as he read the last three words, navigating to the call options. After two rings, the woman answered the phone in a panic,

"_Five minutes Cer, I'll be there in five minutes!_"

"She's not awake anymore," Loki answered sternly as he cast a glance down at Cerys. "_Drive faster_."

"_L—Loki!?_"

Without responding, he hung up the phone as he turned to Rita briefly, "Open the door, right now,he ordered as he slid an underneath Cerys' neck, and one under her knees, scraping along the surface of the steps

"Wh—what?" Rita stumbled forward a bit as she tore her eyes from Cerys.

"_The door!" _

The woman flinched, but nodded briskly as she scrambled up the steps. Loki rose up behind her with Cerys in his arms. Frustration shortly began pounding in his temple as he watched the keys shake in her trembling hands, while all the while, Cerys' face grew paler and paler under the lamplight.

When Rita finally got the door unlocked, she held it open for Loki to stride inside. Once up the elevators and in the apartment, Loki was relieved to see that everyone else seemed to have disappeared for the night. A sheer stroke of luck that Rita would be the only one to bear witness to the scene.

"What happened to her!?" she asked as she held Cerys' bedroom door open.

"Poison," he murmured darkly.

"Holy shit," she breathed out. She'd seemingly calmed on the way up to the apartment, but her voice continued to shake as she stood there worriedly, watching as Loki laid Cerys gently down on the bed.

Next, he turned the light of the small lamp she had beside her bed, which had a bright bulb and a bluish cap. When Cerys cringed at the bright flash that ensued, he turned it upward toward the wall—casting only a dim light over her, and she relaxed slightly in response.

Moments later, Pepper had arrived. Without bothering to knock on the door, she strode straight into the apartment, and her footsteps pounded as she stalked down the hall and right past Rita in the doorway. Loki stepped back to the foot of the bed and watched motionlessly as Pepper examined the wound that Cerys had acquired.

"You have an antidote?" he asked sharply.

"Yeah," she murmured as she continued fumbling around with a syringe. "Her body just needs to take it in time…"

"Why would it not?"

"Because this type of poison infects cells, she needs to be able to produce more while the antidote destroys the infected ones, and…" Pepper pauses, her voice trembling. "And I don't know how much time she's spent with it in her system, or how much, or anything…"

"That's not a problem," Loki said matter-of-factly, prompting her to look over her shoulder at him. "I can help."

She furrowed a brow at him, but looked back down and continued working anyway. "What? How?"

"I can regenerate her body, if it'll help the recovery."

The woman sighed as she kneeled against the bed, laying her fingers against her forehead. "Okay—okay," she muttered frustratedly and she slid off the bed, and gestured to him. "Do it then—and you," she stalked toward Rita, startling the poor girl. "We need to talk."

Loki eyed her over his shoulder as he sauntered slowly toward the side of Cerys' bed, and lowered himself down beside her. He sunk into the mattress and sighed as he took her right hand, sliding it between both of his, and rested them on his knee. Pain tightened in his chest as he observed her labored breathing, and he brushed a thumb along her soft skin as he listened to Pepper lecturing Rita on the importance of discretion in this situation. She kept her explanations short and clipped as she urged Rita to give her word of silence—otherwise, there would be drastic consequences to her indiscretion.

"Alright," Pepper exhaled lightly. "We're going to stay with Cerys, but we're closing the door so your other roommates don't see anything. And you keep quiet about it, alright?"

Rita nodded as she stepped out of the way. "_Yeah, okay,"_ she whispered as she took one last glance at Loki and Cerys on the bed.

After closing the door, Pepper dropped down on the desk chair across the way, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "_Shit…_"

Loki eyed her quietly for a moment before drifting his gaze back down to Cerys. With their hands being the only point of contact, he freely grasped hers tightly as his magic poured across their palms.

They stayed that way for some time, barely saying a word to each other as Pepper occasionally checked her phone. They'd soon begun to hear the other roommates coming home, obviously in a state of intoxication, and they all shuffled to their rooms after some brief conversing—which did not include Rita.

When he trailed his eyes back down toward Cerys from the door, Loki suddenly noticed Pepper's gaze narrowed on their intertwined hands. She looked up at him in turn, looking as though she wanted to say something, but decidedly withheld her thoughts.

"What?" he asked darkly—quietly.

Her eyes flickered up to him, and she shook her head at first—changing her mind a moment later. She set the phone down slowly on the night stand as she looked at him, "Do you still love her?"

A wave of anger suddenly coursed through him at the audacity of the question, but he kept still as he eyed her in the darkness. She waited, and Loki realized that the conversation would not move forward without an answer.

"No." he said dryly as he slid his gaze back down to Cerys, loosening his grip around her hand.

Pepper's light scoff drew his eyes back up to her, and he stared blankly as she shook her head. "See how easy it was for me to figure out that you loved her before?" she murmured quietly. "Even though you never told her?"

Loki stilled.

"And the fact that I heard about it before she did—it's why she deserves better," Pepper went on, pausing only for a moment. "Michael tells her he loves her every single day."

Loki's eyes hardened a bit as he glared at her. All the while, tension rippled in his jaw as he began considering the variety of reasons why this patronizing woman would risk tearing him away from his current task—did she want him to leave her best friend as she was?

The way she shook her head indicated that she'd had no fear of that happening. "_That's_ what she deserves. And that's not an invitation for you to tell her," Pepper added pointedly. "If you care about her at all, you won't try to take away what she has now, with him."

Loki slid his gaze away from the woman, and trailed his eyes over to the small window instead, just behind him.

"Of course not." he murmured, and listened as Pepper shifted slightly in the chair.

Silence permeated the space for several hours more, until he began noticing Pepper dozing off in the chair. The rest of the apartment had grown dead silent, and it wouldn't have surprised him to find that the little dim lamp on Cerys' nightstand was the only source of light as well.

"You can go home," he finally said, and his voice was small in the quiet darkness that had filled the space. "I'll stay with her."

Pepper blinked tiredly at Cerys before looking back up at him. "What?"

"I'll stay with her. Make sure she's alright. And I'll be gone before she wakes."

"So she'll wake up alone?"

"Her friends will be here, and I'm sure she'll call if she needs anything. Besides, we don't know how long she'll be asleep. Could be another day, but we at least know that she'll be alright in the end."

She stared for a few moments, as though considering his offer carefully, and finally nodded as she stared down at Cerys. "You're right…"

Loki merely watched as Pepper trailed over to the side of her bed once more, bending over to feel Cerys' temperature. Seemingly satisfied with her progression, she stepped away from the bed and bobbed her head, gathering her belongings. "Thanks." He eyed her as she opened and closed the door carefully, making her way silently through the apartment until he heard the front door close faintly.

There was nothing to thank for. Sleep was a luxury to a god, but not a necessity, and Loki hardly grew tired in the hours he'd spent at Cerys' side. The worst of it was watching her writhe occasionally in bouts of pain—as she'd begun doing once more, though this interval was greater than the last one. A sign of improvement.

Loki shifted as her face contorted painfully, her chest rising and falling heavily. Keeping his body upright, he reached out and brushed his fingers reassuringly over her damp cheek, hoping that it brought her some semblance of awareness that she was being cared for. Her face was damp, but trembling—in fact, her whole body had been trembling, and covered in bumps that broke out along her skin, as though she were cold. He looked over her for a moment, waiting for the episode to pass, and sighed with relief after a few minutes, when her face finally began to relax.

_No less lovely than ever_, he admitted to himself.

It'd take a fool not to see that she was a woman of high caliber, with her sweeping jaw, beautiful eyes and soft, full lips… But even without the benefit of her physical beauty, the pleasure it brought him to simply regard her at any given moment always drew warmth to his chest, and it steeped each time she smiled at him.

For the first time that night, his eyelids grew heavy, and a grin touched his lips as her brows relaxed fully, relieved of the pain. He'd have made a liar of himself to say that he wasn't wishing to relive a tender moment from better times, to feel her breath fanning his face as the soft depth of her lips pressed against his…

The current moment may have been opportune, but there was obviously a matter of respect that stood in the way. He would never advance on her in any such way, unless invited—and if he were, there would be fire.

Obviously, she was not in a state to even consider being so welcoming… Not that she was ever in such a state these days, even when she was awake. Not for him, at least.

Cerys hadn't stopped trembling in some time, despite the stuffiness of the room. Pepper had mentioned that her body might start to chill, and that it was a normal process of overcoming the fever. Loki released her hand slightly as he slid it under her shoulder, nudging her gently to the side as he sat beside her shoulders at the top of her—of _his_—bed, allowing the warmth of his torso to seep over the space between them. As a frost giant, his bodily heat was lesser than that of his brother's—but as a god, he still could will it to be more intense than the average human's.

He blinked away the images that suddenly rose, of Cerys and that man tumbling about in this bed, and instead focused on how her trembling calmed—just as he'd expected. Though he continuously kept a distance from her as she slept, he allowed the same power he'd been using to heal her, to emanate from him just strongly enough to ensconce her in warmth. From there, he continued holding her hand for some time as her recovery progressed, empowering it with his magic as he sat beside her. When all signs of the fever and the trembling finally stopped, and the marks had faded entirely from her wrist, Cerys turned over in the bed, seemingly falling into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Loki glanced at the clock—it would be morning soon.

He slid his hand from hers gently as he rose from the bed, taking his own phone out to update Pepper on Cerys' recovery upon her waking. He would not, however, be here when Cerys woke.

With one last look at her across the room, Loki followed after Pepper's trail—out of the room, out of the apartment, and into the dawn.

* * *

**Phew, that's that... So yeah, longest chapter yet, and this is what I was talking about when I offered Loki's POV. I really hope it worked for you guys. I've got to get going so today's AN is a little bit short, but that's all I really wanted to say anyway... Til next time! :) **


	6. Chapter 6: Yes, you may come in

My head pounds with a fury as I slowly wake up late the following morning. It takes a few minutes for the slightest bit of light pouring in from the window not to burn my eyes, but I eventually make it out of bed. For a few moments, I simply sit on the edge with my legs hung over, trying to piece together what happened last night. I'd be lying if I said I haven't been in this situation before—recently—under different circumstances, and I've never had luck remembering what happened without being told.

_Okay—so there was the mission, the knives, and then… poison. That's when I texted Pepper from the car,_ I recount inwardly.

I drag my phone off the nightstand and open up my texts with Pepper.

_Sat, 10:44 PM/Cerys: They dropped it and I fell on it, blade was slender_

_Sat, 10:45 PM/Cerys: There was a little bit of green after it cut_

_Sat, 10:47 PM/Pepper: I know which ones you're talking about, I don't know why they had them. They're supposed to be prototypes, they weren't supposed to use them in the field. I'm out the door, don't fall asleep_

And then, the newest one.

_Sun, 9:07 AM/Pepper: Hey, let me know when you're awake. _

I press my lips together, remembering how it'd become hard to write out normal texts. Coherent sentences became strenuous to formulate, and I'd resorted to the short, clipped ones on the screen.

After reading through them, as well as a good morning text from Michael, I rub my fingers over my temples as I get up from the bed, and wander out into the apartment—after changing out of last night's dress. From there I spend half my brain power trying to consider what else I might remember, and after noting the empty state of the apartment, the other half is dedicated to feeling thankful for it. It is Sunday morning after all— I'd go out too if I had the energy for it. Breakfast, most likely, after a night of drinking, which I'm sure my roommates had.

_Okay—knife, texts… Loki, Rita… _I grimace bitterly as the memory flashes, revealing the very last thing I remember from last night—seeing them walking toward me just outside the apartment.

My eyes flicker toward the cereal box on the fridge, but my stomach protests the impulse to eat. The idea of anything other than water is nauseating, so I opt for that instead, before perching myself on one of the barstools. Moments later, quiet footsteps shuffle across the hardwood floors.

"Hey," Rita murmurs quietly as she strolls around the counter, still in her pajamas, and arms crossed over her chest. "How're you feeling?"

I blink up at her and nod. "Fine," I fumble my fingers a bit as she stares at me. "And, uh… Well, since you're asking, I guess that means you saw some stuff last night."

Rita glanced down at the counter, and movement twitched in the corner of her lip as she looked back up at me. "Like you almost dying," she says flatly, and my shoulders sink as she pauses. "Or… Loki holding your hand and shit."

I furrow a brow. "Wait what?"

She shakes her head as she sighs. "Never mind. You're okay and all, though?"

"_Um,_" I look off to the side awkwardly, still considering what she said. "Yeah, I think so… Did he, or—did anyone talk to you about what happened?"

"Pepper said I need to keep it quiet, pretty much threatened me, honestly…"

I'm almost tempted to smirk, stifled only by the way that Rita's face sinks heavily.

"No one's going to hurt you, Rita."

"_Yeah,_" she breathes out. "Well… glad you're okay," she says as she saunters around my side, heading back in the direction of her room.

As her door quietly shuts, I trail my eyes back to the glass of water in front of me, considering what I learned from the brief exchange. I've learned Pepper and Loki were both here at least, and that's pretty much it—no information on how their date went… Not that I'm really dying to know, of course.

I look down at my phone and reread Pepper's last text, knitting my brows together contemplatively as I considered my response. Obviously we need to talk about what happened last night, we can't just pretend it didn't happen. Though I'm not sure whether text or a phone call is a good medium for this conversation with someone who just saved my life, but… fuck it.

_Sun, 11:37 AM/Cerys: Hey Pep, I'm up. Feeling fine, but I've got a headache. What happened last night? Can you call me? _

_Sun, 11:40 AM/Pepper: There's other people here right now. Do you want me to come over and talk? _

I glance over my shoulder and consider it for a moment.

_Sun, 11:42 AM/Cerys: Rita's pretty shaken up, I'll come over. She's afraid of you now. What did you tell her?_

_Sun, 11:47 AM/Pepper: Told her what she needed to know and nothing else_

_Sun, 11:48 AM/Cerys: What does she think happened?" _

_Sun, 11:53 AM/Pepper: She thinks something related to the Avengers happened, that you were involved, and that if anyone finds out what she saw, there'll be serious consequences. But as long as she keeps quiet, she'll be fine_

_Sun, 11:54 AM/Cerys: Not cryptic at all lol _

_Sun, 11:54 AM/Pepper: lol_

_Sun, 11:56 AM/Cerys: What happened with Loki? Rita was weird about it_

I bite my lip as I wait for her response, considering all the variations of a hand-holding scenario. Sitting in the chair and holding my hand, sitting on the bed and holding it, kneeling by it, what have you…

_Sun, 12:03 PM/Pepper: Yes. He stuck around a bit to help, I gave you the antidote and he helped your body metabolize it via voodoo_

I pause, remembering how Loki'd helped me 'heal' my wound in the bathroom. The warmth of his hand, how he stood next to me, looking all intent and focused… My mind strays a little as I recall how tall he'd looked, standing just behind me the way he was. If I think hard about it, I can still feel his grip on my arm.

My chest flushes a bit as I blink away the memory.

_Sun, 12:04 PM/Cerys: lol voodoo. Okay.. well I'll be ready to go soon _

_Sun, 12:07 PM/Pepper: Kk, see you soon _

_Sun, 12:09 PM/Cerys: Wait, are there still going to be people there? I look like shit_

_Sun, 12:10 PM/Pepper: No. I'm still in PJ's. They were here to get yelled at for getting our help and then going against the mission protocol. Fury was here too_

My brows shoot up as I imagine Director Fury in his leather outfit seeing Pepper in her pajamas, and I smirk when the image of him in pajamas suddenly flashes in my eyes.

_Sun, 12:11 PM/Cerys: Is he gone now? _

_Sun, 12:11 PM/Pepper: Yeah, he's gone. _

_Sun, 12:12 PM/Cerys: Okay, see you soon _

_Sun, 12:12 PM/Pepper: See ya_

I let out a heavy sigh as I look up from the screen, and sip the rest of the water before sliding out of the chair. On my way back to to my room, I stop by the bathroom and cringe at my reflection in the mirror—dark circles around my eyes, matted skin and makeup from the night before. Hot-mess-topia going on on my face. I douse my face in water until it all comes off, barely replenishing the topmost layer of mascara before going back to my room, and getting ready to be out the door exactly fifteen minutes later.

My phone buzzes the minute I step out into the hallway and lock the door, and I look down to see Michael's name flashing across the top.

"_Shit,_" I murmur, realizing I'd forgotten to respond to him all morning—and obviously all night, in my unconscious state… Not exactly sure how to explain that to him. "Hey, sweetie."

"Hey," he mumbles. "You okay? You haven't answered any of my texts since yesterday."

"Yeah," I nod, swaying in place as I talk to him in the middle of the hallway. "Yeah, I'm sorry babe, I just woke up really late and drank too much. Feeling like shit, you know?"

I nip the corner of my lip as silence ensues on the line. Finally, he sighs. "Yeah, I get it," he says, taking on an acquiesced tone. "Well do you want to go out for breakfast or anything?"

"Um, well I've actually got to run over to Pepper's real quick, but I can come over afterward?"

"Yeah sure, sounds good," I picture him nodding at the offer. "I'll be home all day, so just let me know when you want to come over."

"Will do," I bob my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," he answers a bit more sweetly, drawing a grin to my lips. "See you soon."

"Yeah, see you."

* * *

I thought I'd be nervous on my way up in the elevator, but all I could really think about was the fact that I have friends who kept me alive on the brink of death, and I'm about to go and see them. Wouldn't be the first time, obviously, but it's hard to think of what to say. It hadn't really even hit me until I started walking, when my brain got the chance to go on autopilot pretty effectively.

So when the elevator doors open, first thing I do is look for Pepper in the kitchen. As the CEO of Stark industries, she'd dedicated her Saturday night to some important last-minute meeting, and then took off from it to help me. Which, under any and all parameters, probably makes me the shittiest excuse of a burdensome friend in the world…

I glance away from the empty kitchen as I step inside. The sound of television draws my eyes to the left, where Pepper saunters into the room with her pajama shorts and a sweatshirt. She grins warmly as she walks over to me. "Cer," she extends her arms out for a hug. "You're looking good."

I hug her tightly, trying to convey my gratitude. From over her shoulder, I see the light of morning streaming onto the couches—onto Loki in a comfortable looking v-neck shirt and pajama pants, and Thor in similar apparel. Loki glances at me briefly before looking back down at a pile of papers in his hands, and up at Maury playing on the TV.

"Figuratively good looking, I'm sure," I smirk as I pull back, glancing down at my own sweatshirt and yoga pants.

"Yeah, well," she mumbles slightly as she crosses her arms. "Your face was blue last night."

Guilt tightens in my chest. "Pep," I shift in place uncomfortably, lowering my voice. "I'm so sorry, I dragged you out of that meeting—everything that could've gone wrong, went wrong."

"Cer, it's not even a question-"

"No, it is—it should be," I shake my head and pause, looking past her to see Loki's eyes flicker in our direction. "But I'd probably… You know, be dead, so… Thank you. _And_ I'm sorry."

Loki suddenly stands and stalks across the living room, disappearing down the hallway. Pepper glances over her shoulder at him before turning back to me with a heavy sigh. "Of course," she says.

Meanwhile, Thor glances between us awkwardly with something akin to a waffle in his hand, and chews slowly as his eyes trail back down to the papers he's also been holding. I look back at Pepper as she cocks her head in his direction. "Loki helped, so… I don't know, I don't know if you want to talk to him or not, but he deserves for you to know that."

"Yeah I kinda crashed on his date, remember that part… Not much after that though. What happened, exactly?"

"He stayed up all night doing voodoo," she waves her hand. "Like I said. Kept your body regenerating while it took the antidote. And, to be honest… I'm not sure how it would've turned out without him. He really deserves you to know that."

I stare at the hallway for a bit, picturing how he'd look walking back out of it. "Should I go talk to him?"

Pepper shrugs. "I don't know. Think it's a good idea?"

I exhale through my nostrils as I blink heavily, trying reorganize my thoughts. "Well, I mean… Pep, if Michael were at his ex-girlfriend's place, I'd feel uncomfortable. If he went and talked to her in her room, even more so…" I pause, and Pepper bobs her head slightly with an unreadable expression. "But, you know… if she went and saved his life somehow, maybe that'd be different?"

Pepper says nothing and doesn't even react, a clear sign of only one thing—she's cooking up some opinions about self-growth and understanding of how people work, et cetera et cetera, and concocting some coherent way to inform me where my moral compass should be pointing in all this…

I sigh. "_Fuck it,_" I mumble as I shake my head, and saunter toward the hallway without waiting on that response.

The only door that's slightly closed is the one on the far left side at the very end—must be his room. Though I still glance into each of the other rooms along the way, just to be sure. With another heavy breath, I push on the wood of the door. Inside, I spot Loki sitting in a reasonably sized computer chair, clicking away at some database with piles of papers strewn around him on the desk.

"Yes, you _may_ come in," he muses sarcastically.

"I just… wanted to come and say thank you," I say as he continues working—not even turning back to look at me. "And that's it, I guess."

"You're welcome," he answers flatly.

My shoulders sink a little at the coldness, but I turn and look back at the door anyway, giving him a final sidelong glance. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't tempting to walk back over and hug him from behind, but I won't—at least, the hugging part I won't do. I do walk back over to the side of his desk and stare down at him, though his eyes remain glued on the screen like I'm not even there.

"Loki, you didn't pick up my kids from school or run to the grocery store for me… You saved my life—again," I say, and his brow flinches ever so slightly. The clicking stops, though he continues staring at the screen. "I owe you for it, a lot."

Loki nods slightly—his only movement, only sign of giving any kind of response.

I knit my brows together a bit as I wait for something else, and the wait slowly drains whatever apprehension I had coming in here. This silent treatment, unpleasant as it is, is probably exactly where my 'moral compass' should be pointing.

"Okay," I say as I fumble my fingers a bit. "Well I guess that's it."

"Good to know."

I furrow a brow at the dry response. Some frustration would be understandable, but this feels like something else. Upset that I interrupted his date? That he was up late because of me? Do I really even want to now?

I nod pointedly, and turn to walk out of his room. At the last moment, I look back over my shoulder at him—in time to see him roll his head downward into his palm, and his fingers run through his hair.

"Lady Cerys," Thor said as I walked back out into the living room. "Will you be alright, after what transpired?"

"She'll be fine," Pepper says as she comes up behind the couches, and gestures to the kitchen. "Want some pancakes?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'm actually going to head to Michael's, he invited me for some breakfast. Probably lunch by now, but you know… Whatever."

"Alright, well maybe later we could go get-" she stops, interrupted by the sound of a door closing.

The sound comes from down the hallway, and I turn back to see Loki's door firmly shut. I roll my eyes as I look back at her. "Yeah, we can hang out later. Just text me, we'll talk."

"Sounds good," she says.

I give Loki's door a final glance before heading toward the elevator, and Pepper follows after to see me out.

* * *

**First thing's first. I've never dedicated a chapter before, but I am dedicating this one to MommaWolf18, for giving me the longest, most thoughtful review I've ever gotten. Maybe it's just the writer in me, but when I read the first sentence, I practically felt your kindness when you made the decision to take the the time to write it. ****I've said it before and I'll say it again, I really don't care about the story logistics - I'll never profit off of it or publish this story, so they don't really matter. It's not about "how many" reviews I get, or how many views. It's the interaction. It's knowing that people are reading, it's hearing your thoughts on it, mulling over the interesting observations you guys make (especially this deep into the series), it's feeling that rush of appreciation from knowing that time was taken out of your busy schedules to interact with me about Loki and Cerys' universe... So, thank you, MommaWolf. :) Thank you all - my new & loyal reviewers, darling lurkers. It's the middle of the night for me but I will always have the energy to appreciate you all. **

**As for the story... I've decided that not every chapter is going to have a Loki POV. So if and when you come across one in the future (or not), just know that it's highly intentional. I'm also never going to get tired of the push-and-pull game with Cerys and Loki, I may or may not have a problem lol. So yeah, it's super late and I'm gonna head to bed. Brain = fried, and I actually have an interview in the morning, so wish me luck! Sleep tight, beautiful darlings. **


	7. Chapter 7: What camping trip?

**Loki's theme song = "Mr. Brightside" ;)**

* * *

A few days had gone by since Loki last saw Cerys—evidently on her way in and out of Stark's home the morning after the mission. He hadn't spoken to that other woman in the days that passed as well, and Loki had begun to grow uncomfortable with the vagueness of the situation. Rita had, after all, witnessed his affectionate indiscretion at Cerys' side, and made a pointed effort not to steer the brief virtual conversations they shared in that direction.

Clearly, she was in no mood to talk about it. Neither the morning after—when Loki had drawn his phone out for the occasion, after shutting the door on the conversation ensuing in the living room—nor days later. Not that he had particularly tried to incite her talkative nature, but it was bothersome that his only source of entertainment had become so withdrawn.

How else was he to spend his time? To make friends—or spend his nights? In that final regard, his initial conception about their visit to the United States had gone awry to say the least. These days, instead of indulging in amorous activities himself, he spent his efforts trying not to picture Cerys writhing pleasurably with that other man—the one he'd had the displeasure to physically meet, rendering him no longer some hypothetical male without a face.

At any moment, in any context, the thought alone was enough to invoke a plume of fury to rise to Loki's cheeks. Much like the one he was currently experiencing on the way to Cerys and Rita's apartment, while picturing the drunken stupor that Cerys may have brought that man back home through this corridor.

Rita hadn't been expecting him that day, but he was finished with the various consultations that had occupied him with Thor and Stark's company the past few days, and he was decidedly bored. Which, in a state of blissful ignorance, would have been fine. These days, however, boredom made way for the same, incendiary train of thought.

Loki knew from his date-planning conversations with Rita that she would be home at this day and time—unlike Cerys—and he was determined to reinstate some semblance of a relationship between them. In light of this, he carefully considered the effects of his tenacity, and constructed a specific path for how today's conversation would go. He would be gracious, comforting, respectful, and rousing—in no small part with the effort he'd spent preparing himself to look as irresistible as possible before the woman.

Manipulative? Perhaps. Thankfully, he had considered how to avoid that impression during their conversation as well.

Still, these thoughts could barely occupy him fully, and it was hard to shake away the memories as he strode toward his old home. He blinked away the images of Cerys and the others coming home as he raised a fist to the door, and knocked on the wood.

The male roommate answered it, and Loki masked his surprise at finding all of Cerys' housemates crowded in the living room. Far off in the corner, he spotted Rita sitting on the farthest couch—wearing a sweatshirt and shorts that revealed her long legs.

"Oh—hi Loki," Andy said casually, glancing over his shoulder. "What's up? Are you here for Cerys? 'Cause she's not home…"

"No, actually, I'm only here for a moment," he said, loudly enough for the others to hear. "I'm actually here to speak with Rita, if that's alright?"

He peered into the room, locking eyes with Rita as she sat. Slowly, she raised a brow and looked about her roommates reluctantly before standing, and sauntering toward the door.

She gave Andy a grin and murmured, "I got this." She looked over at Loki, who pointedly held her stare as she stepped out into the hallway—donning socks on her feet.

"Hey Loki," she said as she closed the door, feigning a glance down the hallway. Loki understood that she was shying away from his gaze, and was pleased to see the remnants of the effect he'd had on her before. "What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to stop by and make sure you were alright," he said. "We haven't had the chance to properly speak about what happened, and I feel things were left awry between us."

"There's… not really an 'us,'" she shook her head.

Loki bowed his chin respectfully. "I understand completely. Truly, I think it's a shame," he paused, narrowing his eyes. "But I understand."

Rita raised a brow at him. "Do you?"

He nodded. "I believe so. And I'm here merely because I wanted you to know," he went on, drawing as much sincerity to his voice as he could. "That what you saw that night—not a single aspect of it was pertinent to our evening together. I truly enjoyed myself while it lasted, and I hope you did, too."

Loki waited a moment, waiting on some response or reaction to the woman—but she merely stood and stared. A glimmer of concern rose in his chest that she was sensing his artificiality, until finally, she made a strange, aimless gesture toward him. "You were kind of, like… holding Cerys' hand… That was a little weird, you know? I don't really wanna get involved with someone who's… like, got feelings for someone else."

Heat rose in his chest, but Loki stifled it before it managed to reach his cheeks. "Yes, I was holding her hand," he said. "But only because it was the only way for me to transfer my power to her. She was dying, and I was healing her."

Rita blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Well, I am Loki of Asgard, son of Odin and Frigga—Allfather and Allmother," he said, omitting his Jotun heritage—which would surely serve to confuse the woman. "My brother is Thor, and we are both gods. That comes with certain privileges, you might say, over universal laws. What you saw that night was magic. I was curing Cerys of her wounds."

To Loki's mind, the woman looked even more confused than she was before the explanation. "O—kay?" she murmured. "Well, I guess it's good you did that… It just looked weird, you know?"

"I do," he nodded, pointedly holding her gaze. "And I came here with no expectations from this conversation. I merely wanted the chance to explain myself, and make sure you were alright."

Rita pressed her lips together, looking away shyly once more as she bobbed her head. "Yeah, I'm good," she murmured, and Loki noted the pink tinge of her cheeks as she looked up at him reluctantly. "It's nice that you came by I guess, I appreciate it…" she glanced over her shoulder, as though biding her time on an internal dilemma. "And, I mean… you don't really have to go, if you don't want to."

He blinked, tilting his head as though asking for further clarification.

"Like," she motioned to the door, her voice falling low—as though she was unsure of her own decision to invite him in. "You can come hang out for a bit, if you want?"

Loki grinned pointedly—masking his satisfaction with the progression of his scheme. "I'd very much like that, thank you."

* * *

"_Boom boom_ _boom,_" I hum along to 'Boom Boom Pow,' which I'd listened to on shuffle in the car, and jokingly bop Michael with my hip as we stride down the hallway—interrupting him in the middle of a sentence.

"Stop!" Michael jabs my side in a playful tickle. "You're gonna knock me into one of these doors, and then your neighbors are gonna come out all batshit crazy at me," he laughs, jabbing me again and again until I break off in a little bit a jog, all the way to the door.

"Yeah I'd like to see them try and be more batshit than I am," I chuckle as I go through my keys, hearing my roommates laughing inside the apartment. "Sounds like everyone's home."

"You want to hang out with them?"

"Sure, and then movie night later—I wanna shower first, though."

After a full day of rehearsal, Michael and I drove back here together. Apart from digging in to leftovers, I am singularly ready to wash all remnants of working out off my skin. Being the choreographer sometimes means that I have to dance as much as they do, to help them memorize the routine, and today was definitely one of those days.

I stick the key into the lock and turn it, opening the door as Michael's finger brushes against my backside. "Save water, shower together?" he mumbles as we steps inside.

I click my tongue, "Yes, please," I say, glancing at him over my shoulder.

His eyes jump to the living room and he smiles, raising a hand up to salute my roommates. I look back at them with a grin, ready to greet them too—until my expression freezes at the sight of Loki perched casually on the farthest couch, sitting by Rita beside the fireplace.

Dressed in his usual black v-neck shirt and dark jeans, he waves a hand to us, avoiding my gaze demonstrably as he reassigns himself back to the conversation—saying something to my roommates that my brain is just too frazzled in the moment to register. Whatever it was, it makes them all laugh, and if it weren't for Michael laying a hand on my shoulder and pulling me toward the kitchen, I might've stood there staring at the scene for quite some time.

"Hi Cerys," Loki croons from the couch as he sips the beer in his hand—mockingly at that, though I'm probably the only one who knows him well enough to pick up on it. Even with his arm around her, Rita doesn't even flinch.

"Hey," I answer bluntly, trying my best to throw him a secretly malicious glare.

"Oh, Cer," Andy pivots toward us on the couch. "Camping trip on the 27th—you guys are still coming, right?"

"C-camping trip?" I raise a brow as my eyes dart over to him. "What camping trip?"

"Remember? We wanna go out to that place with the waterfall," Lalita answered for him.

"Yeah, the one that's like a 4 mile hike out to the spot from the campground," Andy adds.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Michael says from behind me, and pokes me in the shoulder. "We we were supposed to buy a tent for that."

"No, no," Andy waves a tent. "No worries about that, I've got two family sized tents from my parents, we can just use those."

"What do we need family sized tents for?" I ask, trying to keep my jaw from clenching.

"Well I'm still bringing the guy I've been dating, so you guys'll meet him," Andy says, and then motions to Lalita and Janie. "Those two decided to come, and then Loki's invited too—and you said you'll come, right?" Andy turns to him.

Loki grins. "Absolutely—wouldn't miss it."

Fury pours into my limbs at the blatant invasion of my space, my privacy—my _life. _And the satisfied look on his face makes it that much worse. If it weren't for every other person in this room, I'd probably attack Loki with his own daggers. Which I still haven't melted, for gods-know what reason—I'm the one feeling the burn right now instead.

I narrow my eyes at him imperceptibly, careful not to reveal my tacit glare across the room, even as the conversation continues about the logistics of the trip. Loki certainly picks up on my expression, however, and the subtle grin on his face as he lifts his beer is just inflammatory.

_What the fuck? _I seethe inwardly. _Okay, you're asking for it._

I move away from the counter, facing Michael slightly as I brush a hand on the crook of his neck, and a leering grin tugs on the corner of my mouth. "Come on." I cock my head in the direction of the hallway, speaking at a low enough volume to just seem casual—but still quiet enough so that no one else can hear. "Let's go take a shower," I say as I step back from him.

The anticipated reaction time takes less than a second.

Across the room, Loki lurches forward slightly on the couch, coughing into his wrist after choking on on his swig of beer. A grin touches my lips at the effort he puts into stifling the reaction quickly, and I saunter along the edge of the living room, watching as he faces away from Rita. His face contorts for a fleeting second beyond the scope of his cough, while she pats him on the back gently.

"Oh shit, you okay?" I say amusedly as I pass by.

He wipes his mouth off as he throws me a pointed glance. "I'm fine," he murmurs, having somehow regained control of his voice, and turns toward Rita to thank her for the assistance.

I can't know if he looks at me again before we pass around the corner, but the conversation goes on normally as we do. Certainly, Michael and I can't engage in any kind of activities with a full house listening right next door, but it doesn't stop me from letting him follow me into the bathroom anyway. If seeing me with Michael around the house doesn't deter Loki from showing up like this, maybe something as extreme as this will do the trick.

_Because I can't fucking have this._

I nod inwardly, practically slamming the door shut behind me. And it's true, I can't—I can't be thinking and feeling for another guy while I'm with Michael, especially when that guy my ex. That's the worst, bitchiest thing that someone can do in a relationship, and having Loki show up like this isn't lending itself to helping me get past it.

Talking to him obviously hasn't helped, that one indiscretion of a kickback that I organized wasn't enough… As much as I'm grateful to him for what he did, that doesn't negate the snideness of whatever manipulative game he's playing under this roof. And if he's dying to stick around watch me get on with my life, he can buckle in and get ready for the trip, 'cause he'll be getting a front row seat.

* * *

**Whooh - I'm glad I got this chapter out before the end of the weekend. I was feeling so happy and inspired to write this because my best friend from college came to visit me, and we talked about books and writing all weekend. She's literally read thousands of books and is like my real-life reviewer, because she's the only person in my life that I actually can talk to about my writing. I get so excited that my hands start shaking every time while I'm reeling through plots, character analyses, etc. with her, we stayed up until 2 AM last night just talking about books/authors/characters we love and whatnot... it was so much fun. ****Oh! And while I'm on the subject of personal updates, SentOverSummer, I wanted to say thank you for the well wishes for my interview! It went well, but it was also hilarious because they sprung a timed essay on me (even though writing has nothing to do with what I was interviewing for). And it was funny because they thought they had me stumped with a challenge, but the look on their faces when I told them later on that writing is my primary hobby was priceless lol. **

**Anywho, pish posh on my personal life - who's excited to go on this camping trip tho? I've already been cracking myself up just thinking about it, and it'll probably be a pretty damn looong chapter, because I feel inspired to create an immersive camping experience - just, with the addition of these characters, Loki, and all the "glorious awkwardness" ;) we've been loving so far. All in all, Loki went from being in a mood to being balsy, and I'm getting thiiis much closer wanting to smack him myself, even though I know this isn't the worst of it yet. Watch me write myself into the story just to smack him for two sentences, and then disappear (just kidding). **

**As always, thank you guys so much for all your support and enthusiasm. Pat4pat, welcome to Loki and Cerys' universe, and thank you for your kind words. I'm really glad you liked the first book, I hope this one doesn't disappoint! :) So thank you, and thank you to my amazing loyal reviewers and lurkers. Both for the support, and the food for thought for coming chapters. I hope you all had an amazing weekend! **


	8. Chapter 8: Oh, that camping trip

**New longest chapter because it was a pleasure to read and I might've gone a little overboard, so get comfy before you read. ;) **

* * *

We leave early in the morning—too early. Too early for me, too early for Michael, too early for Janie, and too early for Tony.

I'm not all too sure that Tony wanted to come on this trip at all, but since Pepper couldn't make it at my behest, she volunteered him for the job instead. A mediator of sorts, since he and I will be the only ones who know about my history with Loki.

Apart from that, Rita, Lalita, and the others were fine and ready to go by 5:30 AM. Andy especially—he and his boyfriend were just way too damn excited. Though I'd met George before, having them both running around the apartment like chihuahuas at such an early hour made it tempting to start throwing couch pillows. I restrained myself through those impulses, however—they'd be the first of many this weekend, and I'd need the practice.

We leave the house at six, after waiting for Tony and Loki to arrive from Stark tower. In the meantime, I'd taken the time to wash and my dry my newly-cut hair. It now reached just past my shoulders, and the only person that really complimented it was Michael… Not that I took that personally, I still really liked the new look.

By the time Loki and Tony get here, we're already outside, ready to file into separate cars. I did notice them both give my hair a double take, but neither of them said anything as I walked by. Finally, I plopped into the front seat of Michael's car—George, Rita, Loki, and Lalita ride in Andy's car, while Tony, while Janie and Tony ride with us. Unfortunately, both cars end up spectacularly, remarkably, outrageously overpacked.

Never mind that, the conversation is particularly dry.

"So you're like, trying to build stuff to fly longer and whatnot? That's gotta be like, so much fun," Janie muses to Stark in the back. I turn and look over the seat—stifling a laugh at the flat stare I'm met with across the giant packs of random crap in his lap.

"Uh huh," he muses with a straight face—after spending nearly thirty minutes answering the same questions he'd lectured about beforehand.

I smirk quietly as I sit back against the seat, glancing at Michael, whose lips are also curled upward with amusement. I also have two backpacks in my lap, but thankfully, there's just enough room for me to put my feet up on the seat, and lean my head against the back.

Over the next few hours, I drift in and out of sleep throughout the drive, listening to Michael's music playing faintly over the speakers—not loudly enough to keep me from falling asleep. Until a gentle movement in the car jerks me awake, and I see that we've actually stopped in a Target parking lot.

"What're we doing here?" I ask Michael, rubbing my eyes a bit.

"We've still gotta grab some food, remember?" he says.

My eyes widen as I scan all the shit piled up in the car. "You mean there's no food in any of these things?"

"We needed a cooler, I think…" he mumbles as we dismantle our seatbelts.

"A cooler!?" I exclaim, stepping out of the car and squinting at the bright light. "Where the hell are we going to put a cooler in here?"

"In our car," Andy says, sauntering over to us with the others following behind him.

I exchange glances with Loki briefly before turning away—too tired to deal with anything 'excess.' For now, I'll just consider him a casual member of the group… As long as he behaves.

"If you have room in your car, why don't you take some of our shit?" I say, practically feeling the weight of sleep deprivation weighing in my face.

He shrugs. "That's all your guys' stuff, but sure. We can figure something out."

'Figuring it out' ends up taking the better part of an hour, wherein we all go our separate ways in buying whatever food we want to snack on for the weekend, and then get back to the car. We practically start fighting when it's time to tetris the shit out of all our supplies, with some of us making sharp objections to the quantity of food we're packing for just one night, but we eventually make it back on the road in one piece.

And if I had a penny for how many times we ended up stopping because Janie had decided that road tripping was an essential time to 'stay hydrated,' I'd be a rich woman. Pretty soon, I threaten to leave her behind at a gas station for the other car to pick her up, or otherwise walk to the campground. And thankfully, we reach the mountains before I reach the end of my rope with her continued—albeit lessened—hydration.

We do, however, stop at a small mart just before we go at the last stretch of of the drive to the campground. It's just a simple, two lane road from here on out, and the pine trees surrounding the lot are tall and lush.

Not all of us get out to shop though—in our car, I'm the only one that actually goes inside, and my hiking boots scratch against the gravel as I approach the small shop. Michael and Tony instead go out to look at the piles of firewood laying just underneath the cashier's window, and Andy's car is somewhere behind us on the road, sure to catch up soon.

So, I take my time perusing the aisles a bit, until I hear the doorbell ring on the other side of the store, followed by Lalita and Rita's voices murmuring as they saunter down one of the aisles.

It's definitely a warm day, so I opt to look at some of the refrigerated beverages—Arizona Ice Tea being the first thing to catch my eye. Next comes the hunt for batteries, for the flashlight that I know I'll be using a bunch when I run to the bathroom all night—which is the only true downside I can find to camping. I'm told it's the result of being cold all night, and sharing a tent with the ladies will likely exacerbate it…

I pick up a pack of batteries—definitely cheaper than the ones I'd seen in Target. Everything in this store is.

"You might want to hurry," comes a voice behind me—Loki's voice. "We're set to leave soon."

I turn and see him standing beside me at the end of the small aisle, with his coat draped over his bent arm. I stare at him for a second, noting the casualness of his tone—sensing no ulterior motive than to let me know the others are waiting.

"What?" he asks.

I raise a brow and shake my head. "Nothing, I'll be ready in a minute."

I look back down at the shelf, still feeling his eyes on me.

"What's that you have there?" he asks again, and I look over to see him gesture down at the Arizona in my hand.

"This?" I raise it up. "It's just sweet tea. I mean, I don't know if it's actually tea. Like when people call their recipes a salad just because it's green, but it's actually got stuff that's really terrible for you."

"If it's terrible for you, then why are you buying it?" he asks, meeting my eyes concernedly.

I merely peer at him, feeling unamused by it. "'Cause it's fine in small quantities," I murmur as I look away. "I'm pretty much ready, you should maybe make sure Rita's got everything she needs."

"Why would I care about that?"

I look at him, keeping my expression calm and voice quiet. "Seems like the kind of thing you would want to know…"

He furrows his brows. "Why would I want to know that?"

Shit. May have tread into the wrong territory here. I press my lips together—realizing that I really don't want to have this conversation with him.

So, I make myself plain."Never mind, I really don't want to have this conversation with you."

He pauses for a moment, gandering at the shelve that's eye-level to him, and lifting something off of it. "No conversation to be had about it," he murmurs, and I resist the urge to look at him. However dumb it might make me look, I continue staring at the same three battery brands I've been perusing for the past five minutes. "Rita and I are just friends."

I raise a brow. "Hm. Does she know that?" I say quietly.

"Yes," he answers matter-of-factly. "We've made no explicit effort to be more."

_You went on a date._ I think inwardly to myself, but say nothing. Instead, I offer a subtle '_mhm' _and continue on down the aisle, in the opposite direction.

"Cerys," he calls to me, and I turn and look at him. His eyes flicker over me. "Your hair looks nice," he says, and sways lightly as he walks back around the corner—likely joining Rita and Lalita, who sound like they're already at the cash register.

I sigh, grateful for the momentary silence. From what I hear next, I figure it's Loki walking back out of the mart, when the doorbell rings with his footsteps.

When I finally pick out what I need, Lalita and Rita are already gone, and I'm alone at the cash register. The computer takes forever to process the payment, and it allows ample time to watch Loki, Tony, and Michael still discussing the firewood outside the window. In this kind of situation, I imagined I'd grimace, but their interaction seems quite civil—with Tony standing between them. Finally, the guys walk in here with a couple of firewood logs, Loki trailing after them.

"We really gonna need that?" I ask them, as I pull out my credit card from the scanner. "Can't we just find some in the woods?"

"This is easier," says Tony.

"I got it," Michael says, gesturing for the others to set the logs down on the counter.

Loki brushes past me before I can step back, and a vaguely sweet aroma blows past my face with the movement.

"Is that the firewood?" I ask.

"Is what the firewood?" Tony answers.

"That smell—it's sweet," I say, gesturing to Loki. "Or is that you?"

"It's me," he says.

"Oh, cool," I nod nonchalantly. "Nice cologne."

He eyes me for a second, his brow flickering confusedly.

Which is fine, he ought to get used to more causal interactions like that if he wants to stick around, because that's all he's going to get. The aggressive route clearly didn't take, nor did the conversational one, and I've given the alternative a lot of thought—it might take him some time to unravel my master plan, but I'm sure he'll understand fully when he does.

"I'll be waiting in the car," I say to them over my shoulder, and the bell dings as I walk back out to the road.

For a moment, I smile a bit—the weather is glowing, the trees are green… It might just be warm enough for me to not have to get up in the middle of the night, but we'll see. I crack open the Arizona tea and saunter over to the other car, with Andy and George still in there. George rolls down the front seat window, and I bend over slightly, resting my elbows on the windowsill.

"How you guys doin' in here?" I grin.

"We're good," George smiles back at me. "How's your car?"

I look over my shoulder to make sure no one hears me. "Janie stopped 'hydrating,' so we're good." They chuckle. "How much longer 'til we get there?"

"About thirty minutes," Andy answers, glancing down at his GPS.

"Okay, cool," I nod. "That's actually great, so we're gonna be pretty close to this shop."

"Yeah, we can come back here whenever we need to."

"Awesome."

George's eyes flicker behind me, and I suddenly process the sound of footsteps on the gravel. I straighten up as I look back, catching the others walking toward us—more specifically, Loki's eyes jumping away from lower down my backside. I huff lightly, raising a brow at the way he acts so adeptly like he hadn't just been staring at my ass. In fact, he doesn't look at me as he crawls into the backseat with the girls, and I vaguely note Lalita taking the seat between him and Rita, before walking back to my car.

Strange…

* * *

Loki was dumbfounded by the amount of talking that the two women beside him were doing—and about such senseless topics. There were absolutely no limits to their conversation, as one train of thought led to another, and another, and another. Not a moment of peace. So when they finally arrived at the campground, he all but jumped out of the car.

He was told that there would be two arduous parts of the trip: unpacking the cars, and then packing them up again. He would've said that the drive itself was the worst part, especially with all the things they'd had to carry in their hands. Cerys' car was supposedly worse in that regard, but he'd have rather dealt with the constricted air supply.

Now that they were out in the open, Loki's mood began to improve. Their campsite was spacious and situated beside a tranquil creek, and there was a table and fire pit available for their usage.

He hadn't realized how hungry he'd gotten until the table had been covered with food, though the weather was quite nice—the sun was just above their heads by the time they arrived, though the treetops over their heads filtered the rays of light streaming down onto them.

He waited as Stark and Michael set up the firewood, and began throwing matches into it. Pretty soon, tiny plumes of smoke were rising up from a small fire, and a slab of meat was thrown on a small net just on top of the wood.

"Are you guys sure it's supposed to be right on top of it like that?" Cerys asked as she strolled over, holding a cold beer in her hands. The ends of her hair were slightly lifted by the hood of the jacket she wore, and truly, whoever cut it for her did the frame of her face justice. Such a lovely creature.

Warmth weighed down in his chest as he stood a ways away from them, near the table. From that distance, his eyes were free to trail along her length—her curves pushing just slightly on the inside of her jacket, her long, slender legs and boots that slightly added to her height. A wave of desire bolted through him briefly, and he blinked away as he got up from the edge of the table—allowing Lalita to move some of the bottled water over, to make room for her plate at the corner.

He sauntered over to them, noting how frustratedly Michael stared down at the fire. "Well it's just not gonna cook like this—you sure you didn't grab any more matches?"

"Better question is why no one thought to bring a lighter," Stark rolled his eyes.

"I've got something better," Loki said, motioning for them to step away from the pit.

With a swift gesture toward the pit, sparks of light erupted about the firewood—resulting in a respectably-sized collection of flames.

"Awesome!" Cerys exclaimed, and Loki looked at her.

She gave him a friendly grin and nodded, taking a sip of her beer. It was the same, bland look she'd given him in the shop. True, it confused Loki at first, but it became more clear the second time she did it. Yes, perhaps he was beginning to understand—perhaps she sought to solidify his membership in their group? Or reassure him of the base relationship they still shared, as they had done long before anything had ever happened between them?

If preserving their interactions was the goal, this tactic could be effective—or it could not. She may have been steadfast in her efforts to avoid him, but she couldn't hide every last impulse from him. He saw the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes when she knew she'd made him jealous, the night that his invitation on this trip was formally extended.

True, there was no point denying that he still cared for her—desired her to an extent—though he knew that he was masterful in covering it up. Perhaps he could be masterful in squandering it as well…

Love—such a childish impulse. And that's exactly how it made him feel, like a child that couldn't control its own emotions. Perhaps Cerys had the right idea, perhaps forcing themselves back into an easy camaraderie would make things easier, and then they wouldn't have to part ways.

The conversation went on, but Loki watched curiously as Cerys walked back to the table and lifted a long, forked prong off the top. One of many laying in a pile over the white, plastic cover. He furrowed a brow as he watched her stick a sausage onto it, and saunter back toward the fire.

"This is already taking too long, I'm so hungry," she said pointedly as she squatted beside the fire, and stuck the sausage down beside the embers.

"You know that's cooked, right?" Michael laughed, and she narrowed her gaze at him.

"Does it look tasty to you yet, though? Don't think so," she answered laughingly. "Can you get me a hotdog bun?"

Michael and Stark exchanged glances. "Did we grab hotdog buns?" Stark asked.

Cerys' eyes widened as she laughed. "You better have—did we get ketchup and mustard?"

"Yes," Michael answered her. Meanwhile, Loki's eyes jumped from person to person as they spoke.

She laughed again. "How could you remember to get ketchup and mustard but not hot dog buns!? Are you a heathen, eating just the sausage without the bun?"

Michael chuckled, walking back toward the table. "We might've gotten them, I'll check."

In the silence that ensued, Stark looked between them awkwardly and sipped his beer.

Meanwhile, Loki looked down at Cerys, who kept her eyes fixed firmly on the fire. "Would you show me how to do that?" he asked, and her eyes jumped up to his.

"What?"

"That," he motioned to the sausage. "It looks interesting, would you show me?"

Her lower eyelids flickered suspiciously, but the expression passed quickly as she nodded. "Yeah, sure," she twisted backward slightly, throwing an arm back to motion to the table. "Go grab some prongs and a sausage."

He followed her instructions precisely, noting that Michael was distracted from his task by some conversation with George. When he came back, he made sure to keep a respectable distance as he kneeled beside the fire.

"Keep it close to the bottom, don't put it straight into the fire."

"Right," Loki nodded, positioning his prongs in the embers before looking back up at Cerys.

Her eyes quickly jumped away from his chest.

"I shoulda brought my mini portable grill for you," Stark said to Cerys, before looking between them. "More power, less… weirdness."

For once, Cerys and Loki united in leveling a flat stare at the man, who responded by walking back toward the table. Loki parted his lips to say something to Cerys, but she stood briskly and followed after Stark—clearly intent on not being alone with him.

What would he have said, anyway? Even Loki wasn't sure. Perhaps some effort to clarify the nature of their relationship, or his intent on following her example?

Unfortunately, Cerys seemed rather intent on disallowing room for conversation for the duration of the day. Someone had mentioned a trip out to a nearby waterfall, but by the time the camp was settled, no one had the energy to collectively walk eight miles through the woods. And when nightfall approached, the company had set up a makeshift lamp at the end of the table, and brought out some cards to enjoy as lazily as they had been the rest of the day. 'Cards Against Humanity,' the game was called, though Loki didn't understand many of the references made throughout the rounds. His own jokes were rather dry, though they seemed to rouse a lip quirk from Cerys across the table.

The creek continued trickling beside them, and at some point well into the evening, some of the others decided to venture out to a nearby lake—which was just along the edge of the campground. Loki opted to join them, not knowing whether Cerys intended to come, and there was a bit of satisfaction when he saw her pick up after them down the dirt road.

Janie had been leading the way, flashing her obnoxiously broad flashlight all along the tops of the trees every now and again. Fortunately enough, Michael had opted to stay behind in the camp, and it was just him, Cerys, Andy, George, and Janie walking out to the lake.

"Hey Janie? I actually can't really see," Cerys said to her roommate, as the woman flashed the light back up to the treetops.

"Oh sorry, my bad," the girl mused as she brought it back down to the ground.

"There it is," Andy pointed off into the darkness.

"Past the rocks?" Cerys asked.

"Yeah, it's right over there."

There was a long mound of rocks lining the edge of the beach, and they would have to climb over it. Loki frowned as he watched the others struggle to get over it.

"Shit, I _really_ can't see anything…" Cerys said as she attempted to navigate the rocks.

Janie and the two men were already on the other side, and it was just himself and Cerys left. Cerys was especially struggling to see, and she padded the surrounding rocks slowly with her hands as she made her way over them—slipping at some point, and huffing lightly.

The tang of blood was immediately in the air, and Loki realized that she had cut herself. Not that he needed the sense of smell, he could see quite easily in the dark, and the cut on the scrape of her hand was shallow. He made a move toward her, but stopped—squinting when Janie's light flashed over his face.

"You okay?" Janie called out to her, swaying back and forth to get a better look.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cerys answered, slowly crawling over.

With his hands in his pockets, Loki took a few light steps over the rocks, and leaped to the other side. The others were murmuring about the cut on her hand, while she assured them that it was alright. Slowly they made their way closer to the water, and when Janie turned off her flashlight, the entire night sky reflected beautifully in the surface of the water—setting a bit of a contrast against the pitch blackness of the rest of their surroundings.

The group had dispersed by that point, though Andy and George had made their way over to some rocks by the water. It was clear enough to Loki that they were having a private moment, and he looked away—back over to Cerys, who was a ways away from him. Janie had made her way over to the edge of the water.

Instead of enjoying the view, Loki frowned when he saw that Cerys was occupied with her hand. Slowly, he sauntered toward her. She hardly looked up at him when he got close, and extended his hand.

"Let me."

She shook her head slightly. "It's alright, it's not bad."

"I know, but you should still let me," he said, maintaining a steady, sincere tone. "Friends do help each other, don't they?"

Cerys gave him a pointed look through the darkness, and nodded slightly. "Yeah—yeah okay," she murmured, and held her hand out to the side.

Her skin was cold, as she'd been obviously reluctant to rub her hands together, but it was still soft against his callused palm. Loki ran his fingers along the back of her hand, covering the frontside with his own. She must've felt the warmth of his power by that point, though she didn't let on. She didn't say anything at all, even when he was finished—nor did she pull away her hand for a bit, as she stared solemnly at his fingers brushing over her skin. He heard her inhale lightly—sharply—before looking up at him.

If Janie hadn't turned back around with that ridiculous lamp, he wasn't sure what he might have attempted in that moment. Though surely enough, Cerys immediately retracted her hand, and turned to head back as the others approached.

Once back at the campsite, Cerys' demeanor shifted immediately. "Alright guys, you ready to cuddle?" she announced.

"Cuddle?" Lalita said laughingly, raising a brow at her roommate.

"Oh I just get really cold," Cerys nodded earnestly. "Cuddling helps—I'm just kidding though."

Lalita's only answer was a thumbs up.

The tents that they'd established were relatively sizable, and there was room for everyone to walk into the first "half" of the space, to change behind zipped doors. Of all the members of their trip, Loki dressed most lightly for the weather. His usual grey shirt and plaid pants, while everyone else had worn multiple layers.

They reassembled beside the table for a few minutes to clean up the food, and it took a group effort to begin hanging the food up in a tree.

While all of this was happening, Loki noticed that Cerys had wondered into the mens' tent—likely to say goodnight to her male companion. When someone had shrieked his name, Loki took the opportunity of having the man leave the tent, to make his way inside. Cerys was sitting amidst the sleeping bags they had set up, looking at something on her phone, when Loki came and laid down beside her.

She barely managed to give him a sidelong glance before Stark pointedly wandered into the tent after him, and rolled his eyes when he noticed their proximity.

"'scuse me," Stark muttered sarcastically, as he demonstrably stepped between them. Cerys smirked a little as Stark forced Loki off to the side, and settled between them in the sleeping bag.

The air was brisk and light, but the atmosphere became tense with silence.

Cerys looked up at the tent entrance a few times from her phone, otherwise saying nothing. Michael seemed to be taking his time returning to her tent, and the others were turning off their lights already. Finally she stood, and walked out to meet him instead.

Loki seethed inwardly a bit, only slightly distracted by the quiet, timely snores that started to rise from Stark's mouth. Surely, with his hearing, it would be one of many bottled annoyances keeping him awake this night.

* * *

The night was goddamn freezing, and the super thermal leggings, shirt, sweatshirt and sleeping bag evidently weren't enough to keep it at bay. I was joking with the others about needing to cuddle, but it really would've helped—and it was becoming seriously tempting to crawl into Michael's tent. Hours and hours of drifting in and out of shallow sleep was just no fun.

I start getting really tired on my third or fourth time getting up to pee. Put on the hiking boots, grab the toilet paper, grab the flashlight…. Thank God the bathrooms have plumbing, at least.

People in my tent begin to shift, sighing purposefully at the noise—which I already feel guilty about. This was why I was against spending two nights, though. I couldn't handle two nights of sleeplessness—I'd just _have_ to sleep with Michael at some point, but that sure as hell was not going to happen with Loki in the same tent.

As much as it might send a message, it would just be hurtful and unfair… Which I should've considered weeks ago, when I pointedly made an attempt at Loki's jealousy, and got nothing out of it. Today, after seeing the effort he seemed to be putting into just being friends, I wasn't sure that doing something like that again would help.

So I crawl out of the tent, zipping it back up behind me, and flicker on the light. I head up the hill to the bathrooms, cutting across patches of pine trees to get there. The sink water, of course, is just as icy as it was before, and wakes me up pretty thoroughly.I leave the toilet roll behind this time, since I'm probably the only one who's going to use it.

On my way back down, movement at the bottom of the hill stops me dead in my tracks. Somewhere across the patch of moonlight shining down at the trees, I flash my light toward a sizably large shadow sifting through the dark. My breath hitches when I realize that a bear's wandered into our camp, and my eyes widen as I freeze.

"_Shit…_" I whisper.

_What to do, what to do, what to do…_ My thoughts cycle through bits and pieces of any article or conversation I might've had in my life, that would tell me what to do in this situation.

Nothing comes to mind.

_Shit shit shit…_

"_Go away," _I murmur, invoking the voice—not that I've ever tried it on animals, but it's worth a shot. "_Go away…." _

The bear merely looks back at me with each attempt, and continues its business around our camp.

Most likely, it'll go to the site next ours next, and I just have to wait it out. However, panic bolts through me when I see the guys' tent ruffle around a bit, and I can't quite make out who's about to walk out of the tent. I'm tempted to flash my light indicatively over the fabric, but I have no idea if it would draw attention to them.

I don't have long to think about it anyway, as someone finally steps out into the night air. A few bits of moonlight streaming in from the treetops pour over their head, and I realize by the long, black curls that it's Loki. He looks around a bit, pausing over the bear like it's nothing, and strolls out into the campsite casually—while my jaw drops, as I watch the scene from above.

"_Loki!_" I hiss—purposefully _not_ invoking the voice—and hearing the sound in the space in front of me. No way it traveled all the way down there. "_Loki!"_

He gives me a look anyway, before turning back to the bear. Slowly, they begin pacing about each other in a circle. And for a moment, I half-expect one of them to charge at the other. Instead, the bear hangs its head over as Loki steps into the faint moonlight and nods in the opposite direction. The bear immediately makes its exit from the camp, heading where Loki had pointed.

I let out a heavy sigh—a temporary relief, since Loki turns toward me suddenly. I fumble my fingers together as he stands there relaxedly, staring up at me. Unsure of what he's expecting me to do or say, I go ahead and saunter down the hill anyway—slowing when Loki suddenly starts walking toward me.

He moves at a quicker pace than I am, and even as I turn to the right or left, his movements pull him in the same direction slightly—indicating that he won't let me pass. Moonlight streams down on him in the opening between the trees, casting a shadow over his dark features as he stares at me neutrally.

My heart races wildly as he gets closer, and I stick my hands into my sweatshirt pockets—trying to maintain a casual composure as I step over some tree roots.

"What on earth are you doing out here alone in the middle of the night?" he whispers sternly.

I furrow a brow at him. "Bathroom," I murmur, knowing that there's absolutely nothing confrontational in my tone.

"Can't you hold it until morning?"

"No, I can't," I practically whine. "Nothing usually happens, I've got it covered…"

"Oh yes, clearly," he says, gesturing back to the camp. "That was obvious."

"Well… I can," I say sternly. "But… thanks for helping that time."

"Thanks for helping?" he hisses. "How about you stop endangering yourself!?"

I swallow thickly—realizing that this is my chance. The chance to thwart this whole thing before it goes any further.

"Come on, that was barely endangering… I'm grateful your help, but you don't need to worry about me," I say assertively as I step to his side. "Or even just… think about me in general."

He steps in front of me, blocking my path as he contorts his face. "What-"

"Let me by," I say as I look up at him. "Good night."

"We're not done here."

Annoyance flickers in my chest. "_Yes,_" I say—this time invoking the voice. "_We are._"

Loki's eyes suddenly widen as he blinks away—swaying a bit as he leans his hand against the bark, making some room for me to pass. Something of a faint, amused grin touches his expression as he looks at me, while I try step by over some more tree roots. "You might not want to do that… it doesn't have the effect you think it does."

Well… gratitude pours through me to have had this conversation at night, or he might've seen the red tint in my cheeks as I looked back—annoyed by the implication.

"Whatever," I huff annoyedly and turn to head back to the camp.

Before I can take a single step toward it, Loki's shoes scrape heavily against the ground as he pivots. A hand suddenly appears on my left elbow, gripping me tightly as a powerful tug pulls me back, and I barely manage to squeak before Loki steps toward me—following the momentum, and grabbing my shoulder to lessening my speed. He pushes me against the tree, and a moment goes by where I see his brows knitted slightly over heavy, ice-colored eyes that drop to my lips, just before he slits his mouth over mine.

Warmth envelopes me, and shock stifles my thoughts as he tangles his hand through my shortened hair—gripping it slightly as he situates his hand between the back of my head and the rough tree bark. A quiet, surprised moan slips out from my throat as his tongue smoothly invades my mouth, brushing softly against my own with a terrible need, and his lips caress mine sensually—creating the only sound amidst the utter silence around us.

I lift my hands up limply, sliding them against his sides—readying to push him away. Instead, I stifle a gasp when he suddenly presses his frontside against me entirely—pinning me to the tree as his lips press, smack, and slit against mine passionately. All the while, his hardness makes itself known against me…

My eyelids slide shut as his heavy breath fans my cheeks, and my brain cells work vigorously to counteract the intoxicating effect. His torso is warm under my hands, and the instant I give him the slightest push, he pulls away sharply—stepping back and glaring at me with slitted eyes, and a subtle grin.

"Now I'll sleep," he mumbles, wiping his mouth as he pivots back in the direction of the camp.

I watch him leave, still feeling the phantom movements of his lips.

Michael—_Michael…_ I suddenly panic at the thought of him finding out in the worst ways possible, and without thinking, I stalk after Loki, grabbing his shoulder and turning him back toward me. Only I can tell him—if it comes to it, if I have to, if I need to, I don't know—only I can tell him…

I grip his shoulder tightly, and he furrows a brow as he looks down at my hand. "_You won't remember this_," I say, locking my gaze on him as I invoke the voice. He looks back at me. "_None of this happened, do you understand_?"

Loki stares blankly, lips parted and eyes slightly widened under the moonlight. I slide my hand down from his shoulder slowly as my pulse calms a bit.

A glimmer of hurt flickers in his expression, and his voice rolls out with a terrible softness, "Did you seriously think that would work? _On_ _me?_" A moment goes by where all the heat rushes out of my face, and I stare up at him. He studies me carefully in the darkness, parting and closing his lips—like he can't find the words to say. "Can't believe you tried…" he murmurs, and his voice trails off.

I stand there motionless as he steps away, and turns back toward the hill. I wait and watch as he walks back to his tent, though even after reaching it, I continue standing there for a while, just listening to the quiet noises of the night… Unsure of any step to take from here.

* * *

**ANNOUNCEMENT! I'd like to offer something to you all... the topic of the next chapter. This was the official "camping" chapter, meant to be lighthearted and fun, and I was going to summarize getting back to NY in the next one. However, if you want more camping shenanigans or to see how the next day goes after this lil shindig of an incident, let me know for next week's update! I popped a capillary writing this chapter, but it was a pleasure and I'd totally do it again - I just don't want to bore you guys with more of the same. I tossed the idea around myself (maybe that hike?), but I usually make a break in chapters to signify some amount of time going by, and in this case, I would be breaking that rule. So I will simply leave it up to you to let me know if that's something you want, otherwise I'll just continue on where I initially planned/outlined. **

**Anywho... I went back and looked at their old encounters in God and the Siren, and at first I cringed a little (like other writers, I sometimes get a little self conscious writing sexy scenes) but then I thought "wow, it's gonna be so different in this book." I'd been envisioning this chapter for a while, so I pretty much knew exactly how Loki would 'break,' how Cerys would react to it, and how it would reflect on how they've changed.**

**In terms of Loki's relationship with Rita, I couldn't really see either of them moving toward normal 'couple' status after their first date crashed and burned - but that doesn't mean her character arc is over, Rita will be very important later on. **

**Oki, 'til next time, my darlings! Good luck on finals, if you had them this week - hope this served to relax/transport you guys a bit (reading always helped me deal with exam season stress). Let me know what you thought of their 'reunion!' :) **


	9. Chapter 9: Stay hydrated

**Mini chapter (posting the next one in a minute), mostly because there's a break in time between this one and the next.**

* * *

When I thought about it, the morning after the kiss seemed normal for everyone else. No one seemed to notice that Loki and I hadn't exchanged a single word.

Not even Tony, who happened to wander between us accidentally at some point. The way he eyed us both suspiciously, as we stood on either side of him, roused a bright, red tint to my cheeks. Loki didn't look so happy either—in fact, it was the first time I'd ever seen him looking like he was going to be sick.

Tony just looked confused. And it was then that I realized that he was holding a pair of fancy, muddied shoes. He held them up to me, "This is your fault."

"What—how's that my fault?" I asked.

"You made me come here."

"You didn't have to say yes."

His eyes narrowed. That was the first time I'd ever won an argument so quickly with him. "Fine," he muttered sharply. "Just tell Pepper how good I was at controlling Loki's ovaries, and we'll call it a day."

I grimaced with confusion. "Controlling his ovaries…?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Figure of speech. You know, exploding ovaries? Like what happens when you've got a crush and it gets all…" he waved about me. "Pent up?"

My cheeks tinged. "Right… Pent up…" Because what happened last night was totally 'pent up.' "That's a little weird, but I get what you're trying to say."

"Awesome, let's get out of here." He turned and walked away, leaving me to stare across the way at Loki. He stared back, and neither of us moved for a split second.

I was the first to look away, and made it a pointed effort to keep myself busy until it was time to leave. I'd even packed up either people's tents.

And now I'm here. Several hours later, once again listening to Janie occasionally go off in the back seat with questions and inquiries. She'd begun 'hydrating' once again, and I warned her sternly that I wasn't above leaving her at the next gas station. My warning wasn't heeded, and we ended up exchanging her for Rita. I didn't feel sorry for the buzz that Loki'd have to deal with in the back seat of the car. Considered it my early birthday present to myself.

I might've gone for Lalita instead—she wouldn't give me the weird, suspicious looks that Rita's been giving me from the back seat. At some point, I can't take it anymore, and whip out my phone to text her:

_Sun, 11:54 AM/Cerys: You okay back there? _

Her phone moos as it gets the text, and all three of us furrow a brow at the sound. "Sorry," she mutters, switching it to silent.

_Sun, 11:55 AM/Rita: Yeah, why?_

_Sun, 11:57 AM/Cerys: You look like you're in a mood back there. _

_Sun, 11:59 AM/Rita: Nah, I'm good. _

_Sun, 12:00 PM/Cerys: Mkay_

I set the phone down. Rita stops giving me the looks, though the rest of the trip continuous being tainted by the awkwardness that follows. Even more so when Tony starts snoring. At some point, I begin to wonder if it has anything to do with Loki. There's nothing between us, if that's what she's thinking—for whatever reason.

In fact, I'd given the whole incident a lot of thought, and decided that I had nothing to feel guilty about. I didn't kiss Loki, he kissed me—and I _did_ go to push him away. So I didn't cheat, nor would I ever cheat. I came so close to feeling like a rancid asshole after what happened last night, and it wasn't even my fault. I could never go through with the real thing. Could never impose that kind of pain on Michael, or anyone.

Still, that didn't answer the remaining question of how to tell Michael about what happened… Or when. To my mind, I can't start that conversation without opening a whole damn can of worms—namely, that I moved in to Loki's room. That I've been sleeping in his old bed all this time.

"Aarrgghhhhh." I run my hands over my face frustratedly.

Michael gives me a strange look. "You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," he says, reaching across the cabin and taking my hand—keeping one on the steering wheel.

I sigh heavily in response. For having decided that I have nothing to feel guilty about, I sure feel like hell. But why? That's the question. How much longer is this going to go on?


	10. Chapter 10: Adult indiscretions

I might've stabbed whoever decided that three consecutive shows was an appropriate workload to lay on me. The stress was overwhelming, and the stress of my personal life was only adding to it.

It's been difficult to go so long without telling anyone what happened. Nearly a week has gone by since the camping, and I haven't even told Pepper about the kiss. I didn't want to tell anyone. The thought has felt too much like validating its importance somehow, when it meant nothing—just a douchebag move on Loki's part. I've been determined to forget it.

The stress of the job has made that harder too, in turn. The anxiety of deadlines and alterations to my routines has been piling up, and spilling over—making it harder to focus on the work. It's been a vicious cycle.

So I sit quietly for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure, instead of constructing another routine. There was a time when I would've dealt with stress by singing and dancing, but it's been so long since I did either for the fun of it… True, I've choreographed a lot, but I couldn't remember the last time I really stood up and danced.

I run my fingers through my hair. _Fuck it,_ I decide, and get up to saunter over to the speaker box.

One song plays after another, and I hum as I shuffle through them. None of them feel right, until I finally land on one that does. Slow, delicate and emotional. No one was around to see me flutter about, and this is long overdue.

* * *

"Okay everybody," Pepper said to a room full of people."She's hanging out downstairs, and we're all going to yell 'surprise' when she comes up—only on my mark."

Loki stood nearby, wondering why he'd bothered to come to this event. Cerys' surprise birthday party.

Ah, yes—Rita had invited him. Purely as a friend, as she'd made perfectly clear. And no one knew of that night with Cerys, so there were no outward objections to his presence. Save for his own, though they were passing. The sting had lessened since that night in the forest, as he'd thought harder about Cerys' motivations in doing what she did.

Truly, it was amusing in no small part. She had tried hard—so hard to mask her enthusiasm, but Loki saw right through it. Though she hadn't had the same physical indicators, Loki was familiar with her touch, and he knew that she'd reveled in it just as much as he did. The way her hands slid softly up his sides, the way she panted and let out that bit of a moan—despite the fact she'd pushed him away in the end. For a moment there, he wondered if she would grasp his shirt instead. But no—she pushed, and he pulled away immediately. The look on her face was also telling—jarred by the sudden absence of his affection. In those few seconds, she'd gotten comfortable in it.

He'd thought about it endlessly since it occurred. As well as what came after, how she used her voice—that stung hard. Loki was tempted to consider it a betrayal, until he considered the nature of Cerys' predicament—to have feelings for another man, while clinging to the one she'd promised herself to. It must have been difficult. Must _still be_ difficult.

"I'm gonna get some water, do you want some?" Rita suddenly asked, and Loki blinked away the thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"Water," she repeated. "Do you want some?"

"Oh—no, that's alright."

"Kay, I'll be right back."

Loki waited as she teetered off, looking about the faces that he didn't recognize. Most of them were dressed in dancing apparel, and he figured they were affiliated with the Academy as well.

All in all, Loki was bored and needed entertainment. He hadn't been called upon by Thor or Stark to offer any help, save for a minor consultation, and all seemed quiet in the world.

Save for the faint, humming sound that suddenly graced Loki's ears. He furrowed a brow, looking in the direction of the sound. It disappeared, and then murmured again against the walls.

He pushed off the table he'd been leaning against, and sauntered across the room, following it. He recognized the humming, the magic—it was Cerys' voice.

Perhaps she using it unknowingly? Or maybe directing the effect toward herself—that made the most sense, considering how calming it was. He followed it out, out from the room and down some halls. It echoed and disappeared intermittently, and it wasn't until he descended some stairs that it became a bit more consistent.

Then it paused again.

Loki eyed the door at the far left side of the hallway, where the sound was coming from. He was sure that that was the source, and moved slowly toward it. It was almost time for Cerys to be fetched, but he figured that a little spying could do no harm for the little bit of time he knew he had left. He used his magic to open the door quietly, masking his presence with an illusion as he strode inside.

And there she was, standing far below him on the stage. Music was playing over the loud speakers, echoing throughout the room, but she merely stood there. Occasionally she swayed back and forth, or gestured a bit. Every movement started and ended with reluctance, and it was strange…

Loki tilted his head. The music wasn't that exciting, either. It drew something of a somber look on her face. And Cerys finally closed her eyes frustratedly, spinning in place. The steady turns picked up with a slight beat, and then she was dancing.

A smile graced his lips as he watched her—movements uncoordinated, but still elegant. Sharp, but clearly thought up on the spot. He wondered how things got this far, from the first time he'd watched her dance on that stage. There was never a time in his life that he was so fascinated with a woman, and now he was sneaking about the back of a theater because of one.

_Fire… _The thought immediately came to mind. Because Cerys was fire, in every way. She was truthful. Gracious. Passionate, and intelligent. A hard worker and a fierce survivor. And… she was kind.

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, tiring of them… Truly, he was so damn tired. And in part, he couldn't understand why anyone would willingly opt to seek out partners for this 'love' sensation.

A door suddenly opened behind the stage, and Cerys' movement ceased. Loki stiffened, staring intently at the stage as Michael sauntered in her direction. Cerys turned and faced the rows once more, and Loki strained to see the tenseness that overcame her. The man had mumbled something to her with a smile, but she didn't look at him—instead, she raised a hand to her cheek, and began to weep.

Loki narrowed his eyes confusedly, wondering what had happened just now. What she had been thinking about.

Michael darted to her as she sank to the ground, crossing her legs beneath her. Her face was buried in her hands. A sharp pain cut through Loki's chest, as he watched Michael kneel down to comfort her. Frustration swept through him, and he tuned his hearing closer to them—wanting to hear the exchange, forgetting how it stripped him of his tact and dignity.

"Don't… don't just up and leave one day, okay?" Cerys stuttered tearfully, and Loki froze.

"No, of course not," Michael shook his head, pulling her against his chest. It was close—intimate.

His mind went blank for a moment as he wondered what she meant by it—whether he'd be right in thinking she had thought of the day he left. Whether she was begging that man not to do the same.

The very thought of it was repugnant, and he'd had enough—enough of all this nonsense. He would watch no more, listen no more—he would simply forget this ever happened, and return to his normal state. God of Mischief, brother to Thor, prince of Asgard… That prospect was far less frustrating.

He turned and stormed from the room, still cloaked by his illusion. The door shut loudly, likely starting Cerys and Michael, but he didn't care.

He made his way back to the party, calming as much as possible by the time he got there. Enough to set a goal for himself—find Rita. She had disappeared somewhere in the crowd, but Loki soon spotted her talking to a group of girls.

He drove a smile into his scowl as he came up behind her, and brushed her arm. "Excuse me," he said, giving her a hard look. "Rita—may I speak to you for a moment?"

She eyed him strangely. "Oh, sure," she said, before excusing herself from the group.

Loki all but pulled her into the empty hall, and gave her a look before leaning in to her—eyes closed.

"Woah," she stuck a hand out on his chest. "What're you doing?" he stopped. "I asked you here as a friend, nothing else…"

An amused grin tugged on his lip. "Friends can have ulterior interests, can't they?"

Again he leaned in, and again she stopped him "Uhhh, no—they can't," she shook her head. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

He pressed his lips together. "Nothing…" he paused, and she gave him a look. Finally, he admitted, "I just want a distraction, that's all."

Rita's expression relaxed knowingly. "Okay, that makes more sense… But from what?" Loki said nothing, and she raised her brow knowingly, like she was coaxing something from him that she already knew. "From… Cerys, right? You have a thing for her, don't you? And… you know she has a boyfriend?"

Loki refused to dignify her questioning. She'd taken several shots in the dark there, albeit accurately, but he wasn't prepared to acknowledge it. He merely stood there, staring at her blankly.

"Yeah, well, for future reference, just be honest with me, 'cause I'm not about dating heartbroken guys," she shook her head. "Doesn't mean I'm not open to something casual, but I'd rather have us be on the same page."

He blinked surprisedly, wondering how she'd managed to branch along the subject so calmly. All the effects he'd seen that night of their date were gone. She no longer reacted to him as she did before. And to explore the idea of furthering their relationship so casually? Sex hadn't been a big deal on Asgard, but it seemed to be a rather touchy subject among Midgardians. This conversation, therefore, had taken a decidedly strange turn…

"Um…." he murmured. "Alright?"

She widened her eyes. "What does that mean?"

He stared. "It means… whatever you decide it means."

Rita eyed him for a moment, and then sighed, glancing at the doors. "You… Well, you probably don't want to see her, huh?" she said, looking back at him.

Loki paused. "No, I don't."

Her face was drawn, rather despondent. She shrugged, looking him up and down. "Whatever, to be honest, I'm not crazy about this party anyway. We can get out of here if you _really_ want."

The implication was hard to miss. "Yes," he murmured. "Let's."

* * *

I'd never been to a surprise party, much less my own.

And I've never felt more special in my life, than the minute I walk through the big double doors with Michael at my side. After my mini-breakdown to him, I really need the jolt of happiness that suddenly bolts through me.

Everyone is smiling as they yelled 'surprise,' and the music comes on immediately. One look around the room, and I can hardly believe the amount of effort that's obviously gone into all the decor and catering. The first person to greet me is Pepper, before the onslaught of guests start going through their social rounds with me.

_How have you been? How's work? How's the love life? _

Hours go by as I continuously answer the same questions, while dancing and engaging in high spirited drinking games. At some point, someone breaks out birthday speeches—actual birthday speeches—from a little mic on the other side of the room.

Everyone I know is here, save for a few people. Others come and go, and toward the end of the night, I go and pull the microphone out one last time—drunkenly proclaiming my everlasting love for the goddess of best friends and birthday parties. Pepper Potts.

"This girl," I point to her, swaying a bit and slurring my words. She's equally inebriated, as are most people in the room, so my embarrassment is fine. "Is literally the reason I'm alive, I'd literally not be alive—she's literally saved my life cuz she's so smart…"

Pepper cringes, drunkenly indicating that I'm oversharing. "Oh no," I giggle, pressing a finger to my lip. "Shhhhhhhhhhh—okay but let me tell you guys, I love her so much. I would literally do anything for you Pep. I know you think people don't always appreciate what you do, but I see it all and appreciate it so much. There's nothing you do that I don't appreciate…." my voice begins to trail off. "WOOH!"

I top off the speech with a final yelp, and hop off the stage as applause breaks out through the room. Dancing ensues for some time more, but I lose track of it. At least, until the crowd grows more and more sparse. Pretty soon, nearly everyone has gone, and it's time for us to go too.

Michael has plans with his family the next day, planning on leaving early in the morning, so he goes home—I'm welcome to come of course, if I'm not too hungover, but that's not likely at this rate. I'm hardly even aware of the ride back to the apartment.

One of Pepper and Tony's SUV's escorts us home, and Andy opens the door for us. I giggle sharply after tripping over a pair of shoes, catching myself midair.

"Whose shoes are thaaat?" Andy furrows a brow, pointing drunkenly to the ones I'd tripped over.

The group goes silent for a moment. "Dunno," Janie slurs, her voice lilting happily.

"DUNNOOOOO!" Lalita suddenly bellows, and turns back to her room.

"Oh noooo," I croon at her. "Stop screaming, Jesus… It's sleep time."

"Yeah it is," she sinks. "Okay, I'm gonna go now."

I nod. "Me too."

I'd drunk plenty of water at the party, and fully anticipate getting up several times to pee. I groan as I trail across the room, furrowing a brow at a black jacket laying on the couch, before continuing on—not giving it much thought.

Sleep time… I open my bedroom door, sighing at the beautiful sight of my bed waiting to welcome me back. I throw my shoes off and undress quickly, knocking out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I wake up the following morning with a pounding headache. Partly from barely getting any sleep, and partly from the remnants of my drinking escapade. It stretches from my shoulders, all the way up the backside of my skull, and every sliver of light in the room is piercing. I groan as I sit up in the bed, dragging my legs across the sheets.

It takes a second to steady myself enough to stand, and all my thoughts are bent on getting some water. It's early in the morning, and I thought I'd have to pee again, but I just don't feel it.

I saunter toward the door, rubbing my eyes closed and missing the doorknob twice before I finally grapple onto it.

"Ugh…" I step through the threshold, as Rita's door opens simultaneously

I open my eyes slightly, seeing a pair of black socks and pants step out into the hallway. I furrow a brow at them, moving my hand away from my face as I trail the length of the figure in front of me.

I abruptly flinch, gasping as I run my eyes over Loki—shirtless—standing in my roommate's doorway. Hair disheveled and looking a little hollow, he stares at me plainly, and my mind goes blank.

The thoughts are slow, bubbling to the surface, like heavy, molten metal._ Loki…. Came out of her room… He came out of her room… Him and her, they… _

My gut coils painfully, and I don't feel the tears coming before they rise. My gaze slides slowly to the white wall next to the door, and I stare ahead at it, seeing him shift in the corner of my eye—still watching me. All the blood must've rushed from my limbs and face, as a sudden limpness swallows my body whole.

An image suddenly flashes through my mind, of the two of them together. Vividly. My whole body trembles with a sob, and I shake my head, while keeping my face taut—shaking the image away. But it's too late, the damage is done.

For a moment, Loki merely watches me stare ahead, with tears pooling in my eyes. My face turns angry, and as he finally steps toward me hesitantly, I recoil away from him—repulsed by the idea of him touching me. After touching _her…_

I glare at him. "My _roommate!?_" I hiss quietly—everyone else is still asleep.

He stares at me blankly, pulling back his hand. Bastard. He knows _exactly_ why this is so upsetting—why this crossed a line on every level. I can't get away from a roommate, I have to see her every day—have to deal with _visions_ of them now, every time I see her…

My thoughts are spinning. Fast. And I stumble back into my room, shutting the door behind me. Everything starts disgusting me—the bed he slept on, this room that he lived in. And I can't get away from any of it.

Rationality kicks in, and I start telling myself I shouldn't feel this way. I don't have a right to, he has no obligation to me, my affections and my feelings already have their commitment… There's nothing that makes any of this okay.

But I can't—I can't handle it. Can't handle rationalizing, can't handle what I just saw, can't come to grips with the imminent danger to my relationship. These awful, awful feelings that I just can't deny anymore. I wouldn't feel this way if I didn't have them. Fuck.

Fuck it all.

Fuck _him._

_Fuck_ _everything. _

* * *

**:( Sorry guys, it had to be done... I knew this was gonna happen since before I started writing this book. People are messy, relationships are messy and sometimes the black-and-white of life turns grey. When it does, it can affect everything else going on in your life. Cerys learned in this chapter that it's easy to rationalize what's right and wrong, but even a good person with good intentions can get stuck in a bad situation. You can't lie to yourself for long. Loki learned that... well, you'll find that out in his next POV. **

**One of you (MommaWolf) brilliantly pointed out that Loki must've realized how much Michael means to Cerys, when she tried to compel Loki to forget. Honestly, that influenced how I wrote this chapter, more than any review ever has - actually, that studio scene wasn't originally part of the plan, but I hadn't thought of the forest that way previously, and I just had to incorporate it. Brilliant observation. **

**Anywho... this chapter was sad, but also easier to write because I've got some stuff going on right now, and I vented a little bit into it. The next chapter might be a few days late. I'm not sure. My creative muse has taken a little bit of a hit. But anyways, as always, thank you for everything. Til next time.**


	11. Chapter 11: Roommate agreements

Loki hadn't expected that reaction. He'd never seen Cerys' face sink the way it did the moment she saw him, and the way she stood and stared at the wall was haunting. He was frozen, mesmerized by the emotion rising in her eyes—complete and utter betrayal. Even though he'd done nothing of the sort. He had no obligation to her. Imposed an inconvenience, perhaps, but she was intent on maintaining her commitments, so there should have been nothing more than slight displeasure.

Despite his rationalizations, when the tears began to pool, his legs moved ahead of his thoughts, and he stepped toward her—even reached for her a little. But the look of grotesque horror as she recoiled struck Loki like a heavy weight, and only then had he realized that his arm was extended toward her. But why? The idea was boorish—to be intimate with one woman and then reach for the next. Distasteful.

Still, Loki hadn't felt like he was crossing a line. Not while it was happening. Not after all he'd had to endure—he too, had to watch and witness the man receiving Cerys' affections. Everywhere and anywhere she went, he was there. Anyone would have found it sorely unpleasant. And considering her demonstrated love and care for him, to the point that she dared to magically manipulate Loki, this strong reaction was unanticipated. If it were, Loki perhaps would have empathized beforehand.

Cerys disappeared into her room, and when the door slammed shut, and Loki heard one stifled sob. A single, sharp breath that disappeared into silence—most likely, she knew that he was listening. And sure enough, he stood there for some time, waiting for more.

The realization was slow to creep in, but it did; whatever this was, whatever was happening to Cerys behind that door… Perhaps it wasn't worth it.

There were no real winners in what was done—save for Rita, who seemed to enjoy herself quite a bit more than Loki had. Courtesy of his skill. Granted, Loki had marginally enjoyed the encounter, but he found it hard to tear away from his thoughts for long. There was also some fundamental awkwardness between the two of them, which further precluded him from fully enjoying the sensations. He hardly managed to find completion. And if nothing else, it only reminded him of what he'd lost. What he once had—and, by the look on Cerys' face—was surely gone for good, now.

Loki slid his hand down the wood of the door, tempted to turn the doorknob. He felt no glimmer of satisfaction in what had happened, but he hadn't anticipated the small knot that'd formed in his stomach. He hadn't anticipated running into Cerys the next morning, and seeing her obvious partialness to what he'd done.

In a stroke of resolve, he shoved away the thoughts altogether. The whole thing was ridiculous. If he could feel no pleasure from this, so be it—he refused to feel any pain. Not for a woman that so pointedly made it clear that she did not belong to him. Who was she to him, for Loki to expend his energy on guilt?

Walking in a smooth, calm stride, Loki stalked down the hallway, to the bathroom. There was nothing for him behind that door. Or in this house. Or in this place.

* * *

What a fucking mess.

Sunday goes by without my noticing. At some point I hear Rita come out of her room, and assume that the door closing in the living room is Loki. The dulcet tones give him away too. The sound of her own voice as she walks back and forth is gut wrenching, and I cover my face up with the covers—shoving away the images of her and Loki that appear again and again, punctuated by the imaginings of her voice.

_Fuck._ Such a pitiful state to be in.

I roll over in my sheets after silence settles in, feeling numb. At some point, closer to evening time, I turn on the television—just to be able to hear something other than my own thoughts buzzing in my head. Michael continues texting me throughout the day, and tops it off with a quick good night call before going to bed.

I'm slightly mortified at my ability to mask my tone, like nothing is going on, though I guess it helps that Michael isn't around to read the raw fatigue in my face. I'm a singer, I suppose—a singer and a dancer. I should be able to manipulate my own voice just fine.

Sleep deprived and severely dehydrated, I barely manage to trudge out of bed the next morning. Movement rustles in the kitchen as I slowly get dressed, and my face scrunches uncomfortably with the dried up tears in the corners of my eyes. As more doors open and close, voices begin appearing in the kitchen—prompting me to leave at the last possible moment. So I dress and put my hair up slowly in a bun before sauntering out, pointedly avoiding the prospect of breakfast.

By the time I'm out, I see that Rita's sitting at the end of the kitchen isle, along with Andy. Lalita's making breakfast, and there's no sign of Janie.

"Hey Cerys, you want pancakes?" Lalita asks.

I give a friendly grin. "No, I've got to get going—thanks, though."

The moment I lock eyes with Rita, I immediately look away—blinking away the image that rises, and mentally patting myself on the back for maintaining my composure. Rita seems perfectly blasé when she sees me—not even a hint of curiosity as to how I'm feeling.

_Fuck._

I release a long sigh as I walk out the door, and a troubling thought occurs to me immediately after—this just doesn't feel like home anymore. I doubt there will ever be a single part of me that can come back to this place again at night, and relax. It had taken so much just to crawl into bed and sleep, knowing it was Loki's, and I only managed to do it when exhaustion overwhelmed the… jealousy.

The stress of work hasn't abated either, and though I thought it'd keep me busy, it just becomes more difficult to keep focused. Even Michael finally begins to notice my distress, though he doesn't show much concern about it until after rehearsals are done.

I hadn't wanted to go home at any point, so when Michael offers to have me over, I jump at the chance. Later, he has me sitting at the foot of the bed, watching as he changes into his home clothes. Truly an attractive man—if anything happened to our relationship, Michael would assuredly find someone else quickly.

Pain twinges in my chest at the thought. Though despite everything that's been going on, I settle into a place of uncertainty. I always thought I was strong and resolved enough to never find myself in this situation—juggling feelings between two men—it's the sort of thing that strips away the integrity of your commitments.

And when Loki had left for Norway, obviously I had imagined scenarios of him coming back. Trying to win me back. But I never imagined that going through something like this would be so difficult. I thought there would be more clarity about which path to take, which one your heart wants you to take, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

I love Michael enough to be terrified of losing him—of losing our amazing life together. But I understand now that my feelings for Loki were never gone, only buried.

And that is so unfair to the man in front of me.

"You okay?" Michael suddenly says.

I look up at him. "_Hm?_"

"You got a weird look on your face," he chuckles. "Did you hear what I said?"

I part my lips reluctantly. "Uh, yeah, I—I did and I didn't, I'm sorry. I just zoned out a little."

"Something on your mind?"

"Sort of, yeah," I murmur reluctantly, knowing that what I'm about to say out loud will make it real. "I'm thinking of moving out of the loft."

Michael pauses briefly, before settling onto the mattress. "Oh—why, what happened?"

"I'm just not really dying to keep living in the college atmosphere. I make enough money now to where I can afford my own place, and I think I'd like the privacy, too," I grin amusedly, trying to sprinkle some comic relief into the conversation. "Can't walk to the bathroom naked these days."

Mischief flickers over Michael's expression. "Well…" he nods. "That's cool. I totally get it. And, you know, if that's the case, then… well, my contract's gonna be up soon too—maybe we should move in together?"

My train of thought hits a brick wall, and I blink at him surprisedly. "What?"

He shrugs. "We've been together long enough I think—the time seems right, doesn't it?"

It takes me a second to realize that I'm staring blankly, before all the thoughts start seeping in. I'd hardly agree that given the state of things, this is the right moment for this… But maybe this is the clarity need—one of those moments in life that comes along and just nudges you in the right direction.

"_Huh_," I breathe out, nodding slightly. "Yeah, that—that could be… good."

Michael makes a face, like he's unpleasantly surprised by my demeanor. "I mean… you don't sound that excited about it."

I perk up a little. "No, no," I answer earnestly. "No, I think this is a good decision—we'll be even closer, and it'll take us out of this level and put us somewhere else."

He raises a brow confusedly, but nods. "Uhh, yeah—_that too_," he grins. "Okay, cool. Well that's that, then. Do you want to start looking at places soon?"

"Yeah," I nod again—still trying to process the decision I'm making. "Definitely, let's craigslist it up."

I watch as he crawls under the sheets, while I remain seated at the foot of the bed. "Let's both look at some listings and then send them to each other."

"Sure," I say, crawling over the blanket.

"Can you get the light?"

"Mhm." I reach up to the lamp on the nightstand.

Though, even after I switch it off, I still don't sleep. Not after Michael snuggles up to me, not after I stay up several hours staring into the darkness, and not even after a full day of work the following morning. If nothing else, I would've thought that that would tire me out, but no.

* * *

Michael's roommates are too polite to say anything, but I know they're getting tired of his live-in girlfriend. I've spent the last few nights at Michael's place in the same manner, and finally shoot a text to the roommates on Wednesday morning—when it's time to start thinking of going home:

Wed, 9:27 AM/Cerys: _Hey guys, I know it's been a while but please text the group to let us know if you're having any guests over! _

_Wed, 9:28 AM/Lalita: Yup_

_Wed, 9:47 AM/Janie: Kk_

_Wed, 10:02 AM/Rita: No prob_

_Wed, 11:47 AM/Andy: Will do!_

I stare at my phone screen for a bit—particularly at Rita's message. If she was planning on having Loki over tonight, then that would've been the chance to say something. So I figure it must be safe to head back home, and make my way over there after work.

It's dark by the time I get there, and first thing I notice is that the apartment is dark. Pitch black—no signs of life. Immediately upon walking in, I'm hit with the ensconcing darkness and silence—which is strange, considering my roommates are usually home around this time. And just as I start wondering whether they could be on campus for exams, a subtle movement in the living room indicates otherwise.

Movement spurs on one of the couches, and I immediately reach for the kitchen lights. The pale glow of the ceiling lights pours over two figures on the couches—Yuriko, and some other woman that I don't recognize.

I freeze, feeling the blood rush from my cheeks. "Yuriko?" I murmur. "You're… in my apartment? Is everything okay?"

Yuriko exchanges glances with the dark haired woman opposite her, who shoots her a knowing grin.

"It will be," Yuriko muses as she stands, and both women stride toward me. "This is Nisha." She gestures toward the woman. "Newest member of our troupe—our very own telepath."

"Telekinetic," Nisha corrects her matter-of-factly. "Common mistake between the two—but that's closer to what I am."

Yuriko offers an unamused grin as she looks back at me, across the kitchen isle. "As it turns out, we _do _have a little bit of a problem, and she's here to help…"

The tone of her voice is just unsettling. And as she lays her hands on the countertop, I step back imperceptibly—preparing to lunge toward the knife set. "Okay," I say, laying my hands on the counter. "Well what's the problem?"

"The problem is that we have a mole." She tilts her head, pausing for a bit as she narrows her gaze on me. "And… you know, I really can't help but wonder just how long you thought you could conceal it from us."

I keep my face still. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

Nisha chuckles shrilly. "Don't even try, darling."

I stare at her for a moment, meeting her amused grin with an icy glare. And in the instant that my eyes flicker toward the knives, she lunges toward me—slipping around the kitchen isle and grabbing my wrist. I gasp as hot energy courses under my skin, paralyzing every muscle group as it makes it way through my limbs—stripping me of movement and control, but not awareness. Green slivers of light collect in her irises, emanating throughout her limbs, before pulsing into mine.

When she lets go, I feel my body stumble back a little, and then straighten up—outside of my control. Panic rises in my chest, but no matter how hard I struggle, my arms refuse to move.

My voice refuses to work.

Everything, save for my thoughts and senses, is unresponsive.

My eyes continue staring, ears continue hearing—and my core tightens at the approving look on Yuriko's face, as she watches my arm rise with a demanding gesture from Nisha.

"Excellent," Yuriko says. "How long does this last?"

"She'll never get out, now that I have her," Nisha glances at her.

"If that's the case," Yuriko steps toward me. "Let's get this done."

* * *

***** AN for ch. 11 & 12 in the next one - *****


	12. Chapter 12: Don't jump

"Are you sure about this, brother?"

"Yes," Loki answered, having just finished telling Thor that he was prepared to return to Norway. "When are we set to leave?"

Thor frowned. "I thought we'd stay some time, Loki. But if you're intent on going back, we can send you alone."

"How soon?"

"You'd have to ask Stark," Thor shrugged, looking at him off in the corner.

"Huh?" the man looked back from three slates of glowing screens before him. He was standing beside Pepper, who also turned at the sound of his name.

"Loki would like to return home."

Stark narrowed his brows. "Oh."

Pepper's eyes slitted at the God of Mischief—he stared back pointedly, refusing to ever be intimidated by the likes of her. "Why?" she asked—voice low, and dripping with suspicion. "What did you do?"

Tension rippled through Loki's jaw, but his face remained calm. "Nothing. Is it a crime to want to return home?"

Stark and the woman exchanged glances. "There's always the quinjet," he shrugged, tossing a blueberry into his mouth.

"S.H.I.E.L.D's actively using the fleet right now," Pepper interjected, giving Stark a look as she leaned against the counter. "You know that A.I.M's been expanding, they're planning something… They're all over the place, and S.H.I.E.L.D needs all the help they can get."

He smirked. "So? When has that ever stopped us from doing what we want?"

Stark and Pepper both turned back to the screens as she mumbled, "Plenty of times we've flown like regular people—France, Greece, Switzerland… If we start abusing their resources, how much longer do you think they'll keep us around?"

"We are a _defense_ company, Pepper? I _make_ the quinjets, and I can stop making them any time I want. Along with other…. stuff they need," he paused, glancing back at Loki over his shoulder.

Loki rolled his eyes at the continued air of distrust—despite his continued consultations for S.H.I.E.L.D and Stark Industries. There's never been a shortage of alien eyes watching over Earth, and on a number of occasions, Loki's experience had proved invaluable with the insight he had to offer.

Still, the mention of Switzerland brought back memories. Memories that Loki shoved to the back of his mind.

"Think on it," he mumbled as he stalked down the hallway to his bedroom.

He'd bring this up again tomorrow, perhaps to Pepper alone, as he had no desire to discuss his motivations with the rest of the group—which was why he pointedly locked his doorknob, and ignored the subsequent knocks that came later on from Thor. They could discuss it amongst themselves if they so wished—perhaps it would stifle the curiosity, without his intervention. He wasn't prepared to engage in those conversations.

It was already late, so avoiding the others would be a simple task from there. Especially as the hours passed, and everyone else went to sleep. It was well into the night when Loki first noticed sounds coming from the living room, and he was reading on an electronic tablet that Stark had offered him. He furrowed a brow and looked up at the door, stifling his movements to hear it again. No one had left their rooms, so there was no reason for there to be any noise out there.

Another ruffle. Barely discernible, if not for his advanced hearing.

Loki swung his long legs over the edge of the bed, and quietly strode toward the door. He opened it slowly, and peered at the dim light emanating at the end of the hallway. His socks were silent against the hardwood floor, and he stared out at the figure standing before the slitted screens.

Light, curly hair… Long, black trench coat… The figure confirmed her identity as she turned and stared blankly—it was Cerys. Clad in her usual form fitted apparel and boots/

"Cerys," Loki murmured, relaxing at first. "What are you doing?"

Silence.

It took a moment for Loki realize that something wasn't right. Her eyes… There was no sign of Cerys in them. They glowed in a pale, green light, and her hand hovered over one of the knobs at the bottom, which was blinking. When the bright red light turned green, and she clamped down on it immediately—darting toward the elevator. Loki acted fast, flinging a small piece of furniture in front of her her. She turned toward him slowly, an amused grin tugging at her lip.

"Well, well…" she crooned.

"Cerys?" he repeated again, stepping toward her.

"Nisha," she mused. Her voice was her own, but her tone lilted unusually. "Cerys sends her regards."

Stark and the others suddenly filed into the room, stopping in their tracks just behind Loki.

"Cer?" Pepper muttered, stepping toward her.

Loki's arm shot out in front of her. "No."

Cerys' eyes slid to Stark, and in a brisk movement that no one predicted, she pulled a dagger from her boot and threw it toward him. A similar blade manifested in Loki's hand as he blocked the dagger midair, and Stark stumbled back.

"What the hell?" he growled, after nearly toppling onto the floor. "Who crapped in her cheerios?"

"That's not Cerys," Loki answered.

"Is that…" Pepper stepped forward, glaring at the device in Cerys' hand. "One of our drives?"

"What's wrong with her!?" Thor exclaimed.

No one answered. They barely had a moment to, before Cerys—Nisha—bolted toward the elevator, which had somehow summoned itself.

"Jarvis," Stark began. "Shut down the-"

He didn't get the chance to finish before Nisha suddenly stopped, and whipped Cerys' head back toward him. Loki saw Stark's eyes suddenly widen, and his jaw was held in place—like he couldn't talk. Loki and Thor made toward Cerys across the room, but it was too late. She climbed into the elevator.

Loki's heart raced as he banged his fists against the metal doors, and Jarvis' voice suddenly came on. "Security protocols are still in place, sir—shutting down the buil-" It stopped. Jarvis' voice too, was suddenly stifled, dropping to a low tone before tapering.

"What's going on!?" Thor cried again.

"I don't know," Stark growled behind them as he shuffled away.

"Something's inside her," Loki scowled. "It called itself Nisha."

Pepper's eyes widened. "Nisha? She said her name was Nisha?"

Loki narrowed his brow. "Yes—do you know who that is?"

Panic rose in her expression, and he could see it. Her eyes darted down to Stark, and she murmured, "The profile we looked at, remember what the name was…"

His face paled as he glared up at her. "The…" he paused. "_Crap_, it's starting—and she took the drive. We've got to find her. You guys go down the stairwell, catch her before she leaves the building."

Loki and Thor exchanged glances before turning toward the front door.

"I'm coming with you guys," Pepper turned toward Loki and his brother.

"No," Thor protested before Loki could. "You should stay here, where it's safe."

Loki froze when Pepper's eyes fell to him. "No, I'm coming with you. We'll split up and look for her."

"I'll search faster on my own," Loki said.

"I'm the only one who _remotely_ knows what we're up against," Pepper exclaimed. "And there's no time for arguments. I'll explain it on the way."

She practically jumped past Loki as she threw on her coat. Her cell phone appeared in her hand, and she looked back up at them with a pale face. "Her phone GPS marked her last location in seven different places, but they're all near by."

"What does that mean?" Thor asked.

"It means something's throwing the signal off," Pepper answered. "We're going to split up," she pointed to the brothers—Stark had disappeared already. "Loki, you're coming with me."

Loki furrowed a brow as the woman turned, and darted out of the door. He and Thor exchanged glances before following after her. Somewhere in the hallway, they heard her on the phone, telling Stark which locations to comb through—while they looked through the rest.

* * *

Panic rose in Loki's chest, though they hadn't had any reason to panic just yet. According to Pepper, Cerys' locations had changed several times within the past hour, which could only mean one thing—she was moving slowly.

Slowly through the same, brightly lit streets of Manhattan that they were running about on, looking for signs of her. Loki was especially focused, scanning the long streets and buildings of Manhattan as they scurried about from one area to the next. All petty thoughts were gone, paling in comparison with the danger they were all facing. It wasn't until Pepper raised a shaking hand to her lip that Loki even remembered she was there, save for the occasional comments on where to turn—where to look, and what to look for.

"What's wrong?" Loki asked as he looked over at her. People were sparse along the street, allowing some semblance of privacy, and Pepper's hands had turned even paler than they already were in the brisk, night air.

"One of the points…" she whispered, staring at the screen. "Says she was off the harbor…"

Loki's jaw clenched as he considered the implications. Cerys could be at any one of those locations, and if one of them were off the harbor, then…

He shook the thought away, taking the woman's shoulder and shaking her back up from the screen. "Tell Stark to check the harbor," he said calmly, though his eyes were burning into hers. "We'll keep looking—where's the next spot?"

The woman collected herself impressively, nodding briskly as she pointed down the street. "There—just a few blocks down."

"Alright, let's go," Loki bobbed his head, and ushered her by him—carefully, so as not to shove her in front of a car as they crossed the street.

The air was cold as they made for the sidewalk, and the pavement was glistening with the remnants of some earlier rainfall. This had been the third or fourth street that they had checked, and they'd have kept looking—if not for the sudden whizz of light between two buildings. It caught Loki's attention immediately, and his head whipped toward the flash of light.

Something had flown up from between the two buildings, like a ball of flame with a figure inside it—leaving another at the bottom. He recognized her immediately as she stared up at the flame, though Pepper named her first.

"Is that Cerys!?"

Almost like she'd heard Pepper's voice, she turned and stared at them—the light of the buildings on the far side of the alley outlining her silhouette. Her hands were empty, no longer holding the device she'd taken from Stark tower. She must have handed it off, though Loki wondered why they left her behind here.

He hadn't had the time to consider it, before Cerys broke through the window beside her and disappeared into the building. Loki immediately darted in her direction, not bothering to check the relatively empty street for cars, before bolting toward the alleyway with Pepper in tow.

It was the lobby of some sort of office building, and the alarm went off as soon as she was inside. There was a stairwell in the back of the room, and Loki barely caught the shadow of her movement in the light as she ascended.

It was quite a chase from there, one floor to the next, until he finally caught up with her. She'd disappeared behind another elevator door, grinning slyly, and Loki followed it up the stairs until it reached the top—barely tiring on the way up, more so from the stress of Cerys' safety, than physical exertion that the chase required. Cerys had still managed to get past him, and into the stairwell leading to the roof.

He nearly skidded on the slippery surface as he ran after her, leaping into the cold night air, and Loki finally managed to grab her. "Cerys—Cerys, _stop!" _he exclaimed, but she shrieked and writhed and thrashed as he kept his arm wrapped firmly around her stomach, lifting her into the air.

Bouts of magical energy continuously hit him, again and again, but they had no effect on him—which only seemed to anger her further. It wasn't until Pepper burst out from the door that she managed to slip loose—whipping him with her hair as she ripped away from him. She jolted several feet, and slowly began backing toward the edge of the building like a cornered animal.

"_Cerys…_" Pepper kept a hard gaze fixed on her, with her hands raised up in front of her, while Loki inched toward her slowly.

He towered over her considerably, and could have overpowered her—if not for her proximity to the edge of the building, and the unpredictability of the inhabitant controlling her body, he might have lunged.

"Cerys," Pepper said again, more sternly this time. Cerys' glowing, green eyes snapped to her as she smirked.

"Cerys can't come to the phone, darling," she said. The way her eyes slid to the corner—toward Loki—indicated her keen awareness of his movement. He suddenly shuffled toward Pepper, and tension gripped Loki's chest as Cerys' eyes jumped across with the movement.

"What are you," Pepper scowled. "And what do you want with her?"

Cerys slid her gaze to her friend. "I'm just Nisha," she answered proudly. "And you must be… _Hm_," she paused—and her eyes rolled as though she were rummaging around in Cerys' thoughts. "Something of a very close friend, it feels like—she is a stubborn one, fighting with me oh _so_ hard right now—as for what _I_ want," she went on, glancing down at Cerys' hand with a demonstrably amused expression. "Well I'm just here to get a job done."

"What job? What was on the drive?"

Loki listened, watching as Cerys—no—Nisha shook her head. "The _drive? _Oh that wasn't the job, sweetheart—not all of it, anyway."

"Then start talking," Pepper scowled. "Tell us what you want."

Loki flinched—all Nisha offered in response was a smirk, before lunging toward Pepper, dagger in hand. But before he could intervene, she suddenly stopped.

Pain and restraint grew in her expression, with the greenish glow of Nisha's power fading in and out as she glared at Pepper. Loki looked over his shoulder at her, but the woman merely stood frightened—frozen by what was happening, and her eyes never left Cerys'.

There was a subtle gasp, and Loki sliced his gaze back to her. The look of restraint had now shifted to pain alone, and her limbs shook midair as she squinted her eyes. When they opened again, the glow was taking over slowly, and Loki understood the look she gave as she cast her eyes toward him_—keep me away from her. _

His body tensed defensively as she shrieked, and swung her dagger toward him. Loki blocked the first maneuvered swing, the second, the kick, the slice—flesh thumped against flesh as he fought her back, driving her further and further away from Pepper with his large stature. And when Cerys' body shifted in front of him, an opportunity rose to press her shoulder forward—surely breaking her arm in the process.

His hand flew toward it at first, but then he stopped—every muscle in his body skidded to an abrupt halt when the thought of her pain sprung to mind. Not soft, emotional pain, no—that injury would have been agonizing.

He couldn't do it, and he hesitated.

With a smirk, Cerys broke free of his grip and suddenly darted toward the edge of the building, leaping up onto the ledge.

"Well that was fun," the woman mused, pivoting over the stone. "But I'm afraid our time is up. I have a job to finish."

Pepper's eyes widened with realization, as she shook her head. "_No…_ No, you can't do this!" she screamed as she appeared at Loki's side. "Cerys, don't you dare—_don't you dare!" _

"Cerys," Loki pleaded calmly, trying to keep his body and heart rate steady as he slid toward her little by little, raising his hands up to grab her when he was close enough. He held her eyes intensely, knowing that somewhere deep down, she was listening—watching. Perhaps affected by the burning in his gaze, anything that would help her grip the reigns once more. "I know you can hear me—listen to my voice and come back. Come back to us," he paused. "To _me_. Please."

Nisha's face contorted with discomfort for a moment, like she'd considered some unpleasant feeling rising to the surface. But the green remained as bright as it was before, even more so as her reluctant contemplation melted to a sarcastic sneer. "I don't think she liked that."

Rage cut through Loki's veins as the woman grinned slyly, and lifted her arms up at her sides. White-hot fear burst through every limb as Loki watched her topple over the edge of the building, with Pepper screaming out in horror beside him. They both darted toward her, but it was too late—the bright, green glow had faded at the last second, revealing Cerys' dark, golden eyes, brimming with fatigue and faintness as she disappeared over the edge.

Loki's vision seemed to darken. His breathing stopped and his limbs turned limp—he could hardly think as he sank to one knee, and his jaw fell open as his eyes stayed fixed on the ledge.

She was there, and then she was gone. Had she disappeared? No—he watched her fall. Her coat flew forward under the wind, her curls whipped to the front of her face, and her arms floated forward. He didn't dare look over the edge, to see her state on the asphalt below. Pepper sobbed beside him, gripping his arm stronger than he ever thought a human could. He looked over at her, watching as she displayed the sorrow that simmered under the surface of his own skin.

Until a sound caught his attention, and his eyes darted back to the ledge. It hummed at first, and grew louder and louder until something rose up in the air.

Relief flooded through him as red, gleaming metal drifted over the side of the building—Iron Man, having caught Cerys as she fell. Without turning away, Loki lifted a hand to Pepper's shoulder, and her sorrowful sobs turned brisk with a sudden relief. Pepper grasped Loki's sleeve, momentarily turning and pressing her forehead into his arm, while Stark landed on the ground before them.

"Delivery," he murmured mechanically, setting Cerys—only half conscious—onto the ground in front of them.

Loki immediately shifted toward her. She came to slightly as he extended his arms out, and pulled her into his chest. Her eyes darted about in panic, pausing momentarily on Pepper, and tears began streaming down her cheeks—though her expression was stunted, as though she were in shock.

Loki held her tightly as she panted, coming to terms with what just happened. He wrapped one arm around her backside, and tangled the other hand in her hair. For all that she was crying, hard, Loki felt nothing but relief—relief for the fact that she was safe, and for the fact that he had her close. The world would have to cut through him first, if it wanted to reach her again tonight.

"_I'm sorry_," she cried. "_I'm so sorry…"_

_It's alright,_" he whispered against her forehead, steadying her as she trembled. "_It's alright…_"

Suddenly her arms clasped around him, and she dug her face into his neck as she wept, tucking her legs underneath her as she pulled herself against him. Curling into him for safety. He held her tighter as Pepper and Stark eyed them both, and inwardly vowed to stay that way—without the slightest retirement—until she felt safe enough again.

"_She's still in here,_" Cerys stuttered, her voice trembling as she gripped him harder. Loki slid his cheek down lower—observing her face. If he'd moved just a bit, he could have brushed her wet cheek with his lips in a gentle kiss, but he resisted. This was not the time. "_I-I can feel her, she's still in my head—I'm so sorry!_"

"Sh-shhh," Pepper calmed her, reaching out and grasping her arm. "We need to get back to the tower, we'll get you secure—it'll be okay," she muttered, looking at Loki. Pepper's tears continued to fall, but Loki was impressed with the way she commanded the information at hand—ordering Stark to fly Cerys back to the tower immediately. To put her in one of the protective cells, where the woman inside would be unable to use her powers.

"I got it," Stark said to Pepper—then turned to Loki, whose eyes jumped to him defensively. "I've got her," he muttered reassuringly, extending his arms out.

Cerys had begun fading in her exhaustion, and Loki relinquished her reluctantly. Stark was gone within seconds, flying back to the tower—leaving himself and Pepper to deal with the law enforcement that had appeared at the ground level.

Tired and frustrated, they stood to make their way back down the building. Loki wondered how long Cerys could hold Nisha at bay, what it would take to free her. One way or another, he knew—the night was far from over.

* * *

**So... Most writers, in one way or another, draw from their own experiences when they write. I can't say I've been in this exact situation, but one of you (Housebabe) did mention how difficult it would be to bring them back together after what Loki did. True enough - my response is that 1) it takes something equally jarring to break down that kind of wall, and 2) don't worry, mama knows what she's doing. ;) **

**Anywho, hope you enjoyed the two chapters this week! Special thank you to MommaWolf, Housebabe, and SentOverSummer. The double-chapter-whammy this week was inspired by you guys, you're like my hype people and I appreciate you so much. Your guys' reactions to Loki's indiscretion both made me think, and had me laughing out loud! UNITE FOR CERYS! F* LOKI!**

**Of course, I appreciate the rest of you too, the fact that you guys read and follow/favorite this story is still majorly supportive, and it means a lot. I'd love to have you part of the discussion too every now and again (there's quite a few of you, and I'd really like to get a better feel for how you guys are taking the twists and turns of the story). Either way, thank you guys so much! Til next time! **


	13. Chapter 13: I've come to talk

By the time that Loki and Pepper returned to Stark tower, Cerys was locked in the cell. The walls were tinted a bright, sickly turquoise, and she was laying on a bench—asleep, as far as Loki could tell.

Standing cross-armed and in silence, he'd been watching her through one of the digital screens protruding in the air. Meanwhile, the others stood behind him, fighting off the sleep that was creeping over them all. All but Loki were still in their sleepwear, succumbing to the tire that swept over them collectively. As gods, Loki and Thor were more robust, but the stress of the night had kept them all exhausted, while they went over what little information they had.

"She's neither," Pepper answered Stark's inquiry, as to whether Nisha was a telepath or telekinetic. "I mean, I guess the latter's pretty close, but... she's also something else. One point of contact with a person is all she needs to take over. She gets their genetic profile, and that's it."

"What do you mean 'genetic profile?'" Stark asked.

"Basically, she just needs to touch you once to code herself into your DNA. Become a part of you."

"And how long does that last?" Thor asked.

Loki shifted, his chin slipping from his fingers as he looked over his shoulder—awaiting her response. The woman was silent, though he could that she was thinking by the strained sigh fluttering from her nostrils. "I don't know," she finally murmured. "It's... like a virus."

"...And we have no cure?" Stark added darkly.

Loki pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes on the screen as he kept his breath steady. A virus without a cure. His face was still, but Loki knew that the same thoughts were barreling through all their minds—if nothing was done, how long could Cerys fight this off before the woman would take her over unexpectedly? What could they do to prevent that inevitable outcome?

"What about Cerys?" Loki chimed in.

"What about her?"

"She held that creature at bay, perhaps we could train her to hold up a wall constantly."

Thor shook his head. "And what if she lets go? Just once? I can think of moments where she'd forget to keep that in mind."

Loki considered it for a moment. "Let me talk to her. Let's see how far she's gone before we decide what she can and cannot do."

"And what if that doesn't work?"

"We'll go in together," Pepper interjected, almost immediately—as though she didn't want to consider the idea of not having a plan. "Loki and I. Together. We've got to assess first, figure out the rest after."

Loki nodded—his only response.

There was no argument as Pepper strode toward him, and he stepped off to the side before following after her. He glanced back over his shoulder once, seeing Thor and Stark turning back to the screen. It was their turn to watch.

It was dark and silent in the hallway as Loki and Pepper strode toward Cerys' door. The quiet was only broken by the sound of their footsteps echoing slightly against the walls, reverberating down the lengthy hall, just one story below the penthouse. Pepper curved slightly to the left, heading toward a door, and Loki waited behind her as she laid her hand onto a scanner.

It flickered green before the door slid open, revealing a turquoise room, and Pepper barely hesitated before striding inside. Loki kept his breath steady as he sauntered after her—needing only to remind himself once that there was no immediate danger to fret over. Cerys was secure, and for all intents and purposes, she was safe for the time being. He could relax.

Still, that knowledge alone didn't stop his hands from flinching briefly into loosened fists at the sight of her. She looked different—he hadn't seen her hair splayed over her face so wildly in the screen. And with her arms laying limply against the bench, she looked much more dead in person.

Loki stopped by the door, tilting his head slightly as he looked for signs of movement. There was only one that he could find, which came as she opened her eyes to the sound of Pepper's approach.

They were a bright, green hue, glowing as they shifted hauntingly toward the woman.

"Hmm," she hummed briefly, though she didn't move. Loki kept his face taut, all senses alive and alert as he observed the exchange—purging all hints of tire and sleeplessness. Cerys' eyes were locked on Pepper as she shifted her head back.

"I've come to talk," Pepper said sternly, standing before her.

"To whom?" Cerys—Nisha—answered with an unsettling chuckle. She paid no mind to Loki as she sat up slowly. "I jest, of course—there's only me in here."

"I don't think so."

Loki's eyes flickered to Pepper. Her composure continued to impress him, to the point of being unclear whether she was truly afraid for Cerys' life—or her own—in that moment. He might've even questioned whether she cared for Cerys at all, judging by the harsh tone of her voice.

Cerys's eyes hardened. "You might as well get used to it, sweetheart. There will only ever be me."

"Yeah... No, I don't think that's true." Pepper paced in front of her. "See, here's what I'm thinking... I'm thinking you're rational, and that you're doing this for a reason."

"Well observed," she crooned mockingly.

Pepper's face remained unfazed. "And there's only one reason why A.I.M would recruit something like you. Arms dealers, scientists... It's the same reason they wanted Cerys—you know what I'm talking about."

Cerys feigned a look of shock. "Do I?"

Loki's patience with her tone was wearing thin, and he rolled his eyes to the side.

"You do..." Pepper sneered slightly. "...want the tesseract."

Loki flinched, looking back at Pepper.

He'd forgotten about that infernal device—how they brought it back to Earth after Asgard was destroyed. How it was a bargaining chip for Loki's presumed freedom, without the benefit of S.H.I.E.L.D agents following him around those first couple of weeks.

"And the fact that A.I.M's been going after people like Cerys," Pepper went on. "And you, means you know where we've hidden it. And who has access to it. People who'll die before giving it up," Loki raised a brow, observing as Pepper turned pointedly to the side, with a contemplative look on her face. "And even more than that, the fact that A.I.M wants Cerys dead—instead of alive, to spy on us—means only one thing. They have what they want from you, and she's a threat... To you."

Cerys grinned, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You've really spent the past few hours thinking this over, haven't you?" Pepper didn't react. "Well, you've missed one important detail." She leaned forward, sneering amusedly. "You can't keep her in here forever. And since you know what I am, you must know that I don't fail." At Pepper's demonstrative silence, Cerys leaned back and shrugged. "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow—but one day, I will finish the job. And poor, poor little dancing Cerys will die."

A satisfied smile ghosted the woman's lips, and silence permeated the air as both women glared at each other.

Finally Loki stepped forward, laying a hand on Pepper's shoulder. She turned reluctantly, as though she wasn't finished formulating a response, and he watched her eyes slice to the back the room—reeling with thoughts and simmering angrily. She was reluctant to move, but eventually stalked back toward the door, leaning on the threshold as Loki approached Cerys.

Her green eyes floated to him, and Cerys grinned as her features contorted a bit—eyes rolling backward as her limbs shuddered uncomfortably. Loki's limbs were becoming harder to keep lax, tensing more with every moment he spent observing how this woman violated Cerys' body and mind. Her cheerful demeanor, her loving grin, the strength in her eyes—it had faded to the back, leaving a vile cruelness to greet him with a sharp exhale, as he sat at the edge of the bench.

"Wooh... Odinson," she hissed, his name rolling off her tongue, and tilted her head questioningly. "What did you do to this one?"

Pain and guilt beat through Loki's chest, but he ignored it—he had to, for what he was going to attempt. Instead, he thought of her smile. Her sweet embrace. He thought of all the moments that cumulated in his heart, and how she'd burrowed into it before he got the chance to tell her no.

"Cerys," Loki said with a terrible softness. She stilled, her upturned lips faltering a bit. "I know you're in there, I know you can hear me."

"Of course she can hear you," the woman retorted mockingly.

He kept his face taut—expressionless—as he went on, "I need you to come out for me, if you can... Show me, if you can do it."

Cerys' lips pressed into a thin smile, but the glow did not subside from her eyes. "Sorry," she crooned. "I'm here to stay, darling."

Loki paused, and then exhaled wryly. "Not if I kill you."

She seemed unaffected—amused, even, by the notion. Loki kept still as she laughed. "You can't kill me. You can't even come close to me sweetheart, not in your wildest dreams." She waved a hand through the air. "What do you think is faster? My thought, or your blade?"

"I'm willing to test it."

Cerys laughed, still brimming with amusement at the notion. "Go right ahead. Kill me. Rip me to shreds until I'm no longer recognizable, I've no qualms with it—I do prefer this woman's body so much more..."

Loki stiffened. "What?"

Her eyes rolled to him. "What, you really think this is my first body? Or even my second? Or third? I can't be killed, darling."

Loki quickly shoved the panic down, feigning disinterest in her story as he cocked his head wryly. "And yet, you've tried oh so hard to kill our darling Cerys—I believe you may just fear that she will kill you if you don't." The glimmer of darkness in the woman's expression goaded him on. "Now imagine that—a battle of the minds. A contest of control. Wouldn't that be an interesting fight."

The woman shrugged. "I'll simply kill her before she gets the chance to try."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will-"

"No," his voice dropped menacingly low as he glared into Cerys' eyes, pushing his voice through that green barrier—where he knew she was listening. "You're without the chance, darling. Because I'm here, and I'll never let you have so much as a taste of one."

"You're nothing, Odinson," she sneered, leaning forward as the the shadow of a grin haunted her features. "To me—to her."

"Perhaps," he breathed out. "Perhaps I am," he reached up and brushed his fingers along her face, shifting as though he could kiss her. She remained frozen, showing no reaction at the forwardness, and his voice grew soft—soft, but intent. "But you will understand that this is a woman I love. And I will spend eternity with her in this cell, if I have to."

Loki hardly realized that he'd also covered her hand, until it flinched under his loose grasp. His eyes flickered down to it briefly, while Cerys' face remained taut and expressionless—utterly unmoving. He looked back up at her, only to find a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face. The green in her eyes did not abate as she turned away, closing her eyes. Loki trailed over her tight neck muscles, watching as tension rippled through her sweeping jawline. Even in this state, she was just so beautiful.

Curls tumbled over the sides of her face, falling away as she relaxed and looked back at him. Loki's eyes widened at the sight of glossy wetness layering over her still-glowing irises—tears brimming over the bottom rims as she stared blankly at him. "Valiant effort. And an expected one, I sense—but... I'm still here," she hissed with a smile.

Her hand was suddenly pulled from his, and Loki stood from the bench as she laughed mockingly. He stalked toward the door, passing Pepper on the way out, who stared wide-eyed as he trailed around her. The door closed behind them, and Pepper jogged up to his side.

"You say it now—now of all times, Loki!?"

"Was there a better time for it?" he growled annoyedly.

She paused, and didn't answer.

Loki's purposeful stride nearly skidded to a stop when they were back at the doorway to the penthouse. There, standing around the screen, were Stark, Thor, and those other two from S.H.I.E.L.D—Agents Romanoff and Barton. Barton gave Loki a glowering look as he approached slowly, practically tearing his gaze away to keep from bursting.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Finally," Pepper murmured frustratedly as she passed by him. "Did you guys figure anything out?"

"Did you?" Arms crossed, Agent Romanoff tilted her head—indicating her intent to learn their answer first.

"No."

"...Then I guess we did," she said, unfurling her hands to reveal a syringe.

Pepper's eyes dropped down to it, and her voice fell low with suspicion. "What's that?"

"It's a serum," the woman explained. "That'll change Cerys' genetic profile."

The room went silent.

"What?" Loki breathed out, and the agent looked at him.

"The problem is that Cerys has come in contact with the Telekinetic," she murmured smoothly. "Her genes are compromised, so... we can change them. Break the bond."

More silence.

"What'll it do to her?" Pepper whispered.

"It'll make her other genes—her siren ones—express themselves more."

"And what will that change?" Thor chimed in solemnly, studying his comrade with a heavy brow.

"We can't really know. Lots of things might change. Her abilities, her lifespan, her appearance..."

"It can't be," Thor shook his head. "What if we kill the creature that's possessing her?"

"We can't," Loki answered sullenly. "Assuming any of us could even get close to her, she'll simply take Cerys' body as her own."

Silence again.

"Maybe..." Pepper whispered. "...we should sleep on it, see if there's anything else we can think of in the morning..."

"There's nothing else," Barton replied. "This is the only way."

"I want to sleep on it."

"Time's running out-"

"SLEEP ON IT!" Pepper finally exclaimed tearfully—somehow retaining all her commanding assertion in her voice. "We won't make any decisions now, we're all sleep deprived, so we might make a bad decision. We're going to sleep on it!"

Arguing was of no use—everyone seemed to understand that, judging by the exchanged glances around the room. And without a valid alternative, no one had much of anything else to offer. Agents Barton and Romanoff were quick to hand the serum off to Thor, before exiting the building. The others acquiesced, and Thor passed the serum to Stark, who set it down on one of the stands beside the nearest couch.

"Come on," he said, walking back over to Pepper. "Let's get some sleep."

They watched as Stark led the woman to the hall. Thor turned back to Loki and sighed, "Perhaps we ought to do the same, brother."

He shook his head. "I need to think on things."

"If you'd like to share your thoughts-"

"Just go," Loki interjected sullenly, his voice a bit more tight than he'd intended. Still, there was no room for guilt in his chest, and Thor gave him a knowing look before turning away—as though he'd anticipated Loki's clipped response.

"I will think further on it before sleep."

Loki watched as he too, disappeared down the hall. Slowly, he sauntered toward the counter. The lights flickered off one by one as he trailed his fingers over the control panel, leaving him alone in the dark. Only the light of the screen illuminated his sharp features, and he looked at the image of Cerys—having laid back down in the position she'd been in before.

Loki reeled through the conversation again and again over the next hour. Over it, through it, down all the different avenues of thought that branched from it—anything to find to an alternative solution. There couldn't have been something that the agents had missed, could there? They, of all people, would have known if there was something else.

The others loved Cerys. None more than Loki, to his mind, but they did—they must have feared the backlash they would face. The hatred that she would feel toward them, knowing that they made this decision for her.

But...

If it would save her life, if it would ensure her freedom from this creature living inside her... Loki could spare more of the hate she already felt for him.

He pivoted sharply, stalking purposefully to the table. With a fell movement, he snatched the serum off the table, and made for the front door.


	14. Chapter 14: That's what siblings do

Stop your fussing, sweetheart.

I hear the voice in my head, after using my allotted a mental strength just to get my finger to twitch.

The closest I'd gotten to getting more control than that was when Loki... Well, when he was here—when he said what he said.

I've had time to go over it again and again in my head, and I still can't accept it. There was a time when nothing would've made me happier than to hear that, but now, thinking about it just confused me even more... Granted, there's a solid chance that it wasn't even true—in which case, it was a pretty smart tactic to rile me up like that.

It pissed me off, confused me, and drove me nuts at first—but it wasn't enough. In those few moments after he said what he said, I heard my own voice screaming in my head. It was refreshing, like wriggling out of a tight rope wrapped around your body, but that was all. It wasn't enough.

All it did was leave a nasty cut in my chest—bleeding into tears I couldn't shed, words I couldn't say, frustration I couldn't vent...

The spiraling thoughts suddenly pause, as Nisha turns over on the bench—toward the sound of a hissing door. She slices my eyes to the sight of Loki barging into the cell, smirking at the tight expression on his face.

"What are you—" she muses at first, pausing when her gaze falls on the syringe in his hand.

Loki strides straight over to the bench, and Nisha shrieks as he pins my body down onto the bench with insane strength, using his weight to keep me down. Being out of control gives no less leeway to the discomfort of being held down like that—particularly as something sharp suddenly pricks my arm, and pain cascades slowly through the limb.

Its contents drain into my arm as Nisha screams. "NO, NOOO!!"

She shrieks again and again, and both our voices fill my head—mine, from the numbing cold and chill that's coursing by my every muscle, and Nisha because of... Well, who knows what the hell could make her scream.

My hands tremble against the bench as Loki grabs me by the arm, hauling me onto his lap. My voice twists and turns as I suddenly realize the reason for her panic—Nisha's will, slowly melting away as she screams in pain. Slowly, the control transfers over, and I gain minimal sovereignty over the spastic movements of my body.

"It's alright," he murmurs, and I can practically feel his heart pounding as he cradles my face, knitting his fingers in my hair. I lift an arm slowly, panting now and wailing with the occasional sharp twinge of pain.

Nisha's voice drains from my head, the painful screams shifting to frustration and anger. Relief sweeps over me mentally, while my body continues writhing in pain—growing more and more by the minute. And as soon as she's gone, the full brunt of the pain hits me like a wall, with an unrelenting pressure caving over every inch of my body—like I'd only had a taste of it before, sharing it with Nisha in some way.

Loki struggles to keep me steady while I shriek and cry in his arms, and his hand suddenlyfinds the side of my face, brushing away the tears streaming over the edges. His grasp tightens a bit as I lock eyes with him, seeing a glimmer of relief brushing by his features in an instant.

"Yes—you're fine, Cerys, you're alright now," he breathes out, a faint grin ghosting his lips. "I've got you, it's alright..." he mutters again and again, holding and calming me until the pain finally begins to subside.

A little too quickly, at that... Like blood rushing from my face.

Loki's features, the cell, everything in sight slowly begins to fade as everything dies down. Like an oncoming shut down of my faculties, relaxing slowly as my body settles. My vision starts to blacken after a moment, and I feel my head tip back, before everything goes dark.

I can't tell if the screaming voices in the blackness are a dream. They start up and end again for some time—sometimes Pepper's, sometimes Tony's. Thor's jumps in somewhere too, followed by Loki's baritone voice.

My body relaxes back into whatever I'm laying on each time I rouse, pulling me back into sleep over and over again—until it doesn't. Amidst the quietness of the brisk air ensconcing me, my eyes start to open slowly, allowing dim light to stream into them as they open.

Lamps. Lamps all around the room are turned on, with no exceptionally bright lights in sight. I shift slightly, hearing voice murmuring somewhere in the room. Orange and yellow wisps of cloud streak across the sky in front of me, and I furrow a brow at the sudden pounding in my head.

Slowly, I rise onto my elbow, hearing the voices cease as footsteps clamber in their place. Pepper and Thor suddenly appear around the couch, both darting over to me. "Cerys," Pepper hisses concernedly as she drops to her knees in front of me, scanning the length of me—as though looking for some sign of... anything. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

"'M..." I grumble, closing my eyes tightly as I look around the room—no one else to be seen. "'M okay... What's going on?" I ask, Loki's face flashing in my memory—the last thing I'd seen before blacking out. Before being freed from Nisha's grasp. "Where's Loki?"

"He's... with Tony, they'll be back a little bit later," Pepper stands slowly and sits on the couch beside me, going into full mama-bear mode—as she frequently does, in our circle. "What hurts? Tell me what hurts."

"My head?" I murmur, looking out at the sky before her. "God, how long was I out? It's morning already?" My voice trailed off.

Pepper and Thor exchange glances briefly before looking back at me. "Cerys," Thor answers. "It's evening time. You've slept for two days."

My eyes widen, a small gesture of the strength returning to me slowly. "Wh—two days?" Panic spikes briefly, taking a bit of my energy with it as I consider everything I might've missed—people calling me, trying to get a hold of me... Work? Did I have work yesterday? Or plans? "W-where's my phone?" I start looking around the couches.

"Hold on," Pepper stands and teeters over to the coat thrown over the back of the couch. "Here."

She hands it to me, and I immediately flip open the screen, furrowing a brow at the immense quantity of... nothing. I open up the message app to be sure, and find a few 'read' good morning texts from Michael—all unanswered—followed by a couple of worried ones. One specifically, asking why I'm not answering his calls...

I navigate to the call center next, seeing the evidence—three new calls. Two missed, and one answered. "Did you answer a call from Michael?" I asked her.

"No?" she said.

"Well someone answered his call last night—do you know who it was?"

"I... I don't, I'm sorry."

"Okay, I—I should probably call him, right?"

Pepper gives me a hard look. "Well, as long as you don't tell him anything... And don't take too long, we need to talk about what happened."

What happened was that I was freed from Nisha. Loki did it somehow—which, yes, I wanted to know. "I won't, I'm sorry, I'll just be a second—I'll tell him I fell and hit my head or something. I've just got to make sure he's okay, or that he knows that I'm okay."

Pepper nods. "Sure—come on," she gestures to Thor, and they both stand and walk away. "Don't take too long."

I dial Michael's number, listening to it ring for a few moments.

No answer.

Strange... Michael never misses my calls. He always has his phone and always answers, especially in the evenings, when there's nothing going on. The second and third try are in vain as well, and I finally drop the phone down next to me.

"He's not answering," I say to Pepper over my shoulder.

"Cerys, last night may have, uh..." Thor answered reluctantly. "It may have been my brother. He was the one to, um..."

Silence seeps into the air between us. I raise my brows at him, "...to what?"

He glances at Pepper. "You want to take it from here?" She gives him a tiny nod before looking back at me.

"Cer," Pepper sighs, turning slowly on one of the high chairs, gathering her hands in front of her as she stares at me. "How much do you remember about what happened?"

I glance around the room, recalling bits and pieces of a scattered image—a cell, Pepper and Loki's visit, and then... Loki. He was in my cell, and he came alone. "I remember Loki, he came to the cell with something in his hand, and then there was pain, and... after that, nothing." Pepper slides off the chair, and makes her way back around the couch. I go on as she saunters over to me, "Loki did something to get her out of me, I think..."

Peppers sighs, plopping down beside me as her voice softens, "There was..." she pauses. "This is hard to explain. We a difficult choice to make, Cer."

"...what was it?"

Tension ripples through her jaw as she stares ahead at the ground. "The woman who possessed you was telekinetic that used touch to code herself into your DNA. Agents Romanoff and Barton came by with a... serum. It was supposed to change your genetic profile. Make your siren genes express themselves more."

"Um..." Heat drains from my cheeks. "Uh huh...?"

"And it was the only way, it was the only thing we could do... We had to use it, otherwise she would've killed you at one point, or another."

I stare at her for a moment, and then shake my head. "I don't understand."

"We used the serum on you—Loki did, anyway. He changed your genetic profile."

I pause, all my thoughts coming to a screeching halt. "But I—I don't feel any different."

"We don't know what changed yet." She turned toward me with a solemn look. "We just... know that it worked."

Panic and fear hit me like a ton of bricks, and my breathing quickens as I grab the phone again in a daze. I stare at the screen for a moment, wondering what I was even planning to do, and instinctually dial Michael again—as if that could distract me.

Still no answer.

Probably for the best, for now...

Pepper went on, "And since we don't know what it did, you should probably stay here for a while so we can watch over you."

The thought of bunking with Loki in the same apartment flashes through my thoughts, just like it did the first time I was asked to do it, but I quickly shove it down—there are more important questions to be asked.

"What's going to happen to me?" my voice trembles a bit, dripping with the panic boiling over in my chest. "W-what am I supposed to do? I have to tell people what happened to me, I have to tell my family something..." Excuses, that last bit—my family would hardly notice anything different about me. They don't see me frequently enough for that. "Do I look different!?"

Pepper glances up at me. "Your eyes are a little bit lighter, but... Other than that, no."

"Okay," I breathe out. "Well at least there's that, what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I mean, if you're talking about right now, I don't know... Everything's calm, no one's in danger, so I'd just like something... normal."

"Normal?" I say, feeling the word roll off my tongue.

She shrugs. "Cer, I barely slept last night, so... I just need a break."

"Oh. Yeah, that's—that's fine," Guilt twinges in my chest. "I'm sorry, Pep..."

"For what?"

I wave a hand as wetness tinges my eyes, frustration boiling over. "That I got involved with them..." I say, practically whispering. "That all of this happened. I feel like I've caused more problems than I helped solve."

Her lip quirks upward reassuringly. "Problems, sure, but..." she pauses. "We also got a lot done, you know? Remember how many heists we got in on? This is just the world we live in, now... You still haven't given me as many heart attacks as Tony has."

I chuckle lightly. "Yeah, but I keep getting in trouble, and you keep losing sleep to bail me out of it..."

A moment of silence goes by as I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "Sure," she murmurs with a grin, glancing at Thor over the couch. "But that's what siblings do."

My breath hitches with a quiet half-sob-half-chuckle at the thought of it—of Pepper being my chosen family. I look over to see Thor smiling as well, and he nods his head toward us. "Ever the responsible ones, aren't we?"

"Yeah," she nods. "But it only goes so far, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

Pepper looks back at me. "There's a lot to figure out here, and we've got time to do it, but just... let's take a breather first, okay? We'll figure out what the serum did to you, just not right now."

I look over the bags under her eyes, knowing that she only gets them when she's truly sleep deprived, and offer a subtle grin. "Yeah, no worries... I mean, I'm not dying, right?"

"No, you're not."

"Then that's what matters right now—I'm not dying, and no one's dying because of me."

"Yeah," she grins. "I agree."

I sigh as a scintilla of ease trickles in, dissipating quickly when I glance back down at my phone.

Still no answer.


	15. Chapter 15: Make your choice

Loki and Stark return to the tower by their own means, with Stark opting to take the aerial route back into the building—leaving Loki to take the elevator.

It's the middle of the night by the time they get back from their meeting with S.H.I.E.L.D—registering Cerys formally to whatever faction of the organization that dealt with tracking individuals with extraordinary genetic abnormalities. Cerys was well known in New York's branch of the organization, of course, but it was their obligation nonetheless to not draw any excess attention to her presence in the city. Best way to do that was to inform them first.

Granted, it had momentarily taken a turn for the worst when they began questioning Loki's intentions for using the serum, questioning whether or not he was scheming after something. And if Stark hadn't been there, there's no telling where that would have gone. The tension in that vast conference room could have been cut with a knife.

And so, foul-tempered and angry, Loki trudged into the elevator and waited impatiently for it to reach the top floor.

The penthouse was dark when the doors opened, and quiet—save for the television light streaming over the couches. Loki approached it slowly, following the streams of light to where Cerys lay—right where he left her that morning. Only this time, she had shifted to the other side, with the blanket strewn over her differently.

She must have woken at some point during the day.

Loki's eyes flickered over the cell phone laying on the table, and he swallowed thickly—wondering if she'd checked it. The phone had rung thrice from her coat last night, as he sat up beside her on the couch. Loki ignored it the first and second time, knowing who it must have been, but the third time was the charm.

He stood and sauntered over to it, sliding it out from the deep coat pocket, and looked at the screen. As expected, it was Michael calling. Loki hesitated at first, but quickly submitted to the temptation of pressing 'answer.'

_Hello," _he mused into the device.

_Uh… hello?"_ Loki frowned as the man's repugnant voice polluted his ear._ "Who is this? Is—is Cerys there?" _

_Michael," _Loki crooned. _"This is Loki. And yes, Cerys is here—a bit out of commission at the moment, she can't come to the phone." _

The call went silent._ "Oh," _he muttered, the annoyance growing in his tone._ "Well is that why she hasn't answered all day? She's got work tomorrow and she was supposed to come over and look at apartments with me today—what's going on with her?" _

Loki stiffened, swallowing thickly as a wave of jealousy burned through his chest.

Looking at apartment homes together? That was certainly news—no doubt following his indiscretion with her roommate… Loki had never intended for her to find out, though he had briefly considered what would happen, that morning when he turned over in Rita's small bed. Instead of pulling her back, through some deeply rooted realization of her feelings toward him, the act had pushed her toward another man.

_She had a bit of a fall," _Loki answered tersely. _"She's hasn't woken up yet." _

_wait, what?"_ the tension drained as Michael's voice grew more panicked._ "Oh my God, is she okay? Is she in the hospital?" _

_No, she's at Stark tower at the moment." _

_Pepper's place? Why's she there? Can I come see her?" _

_She's not awake to greet you." _

_If she's been knocked out all day, why haven't you guys taken her to the hospital?" _

_"She'll receive better care here than anywhere else, I assure you." _

_No offense, but unless you guys are doctors, I think she needs to see one." _Loki's jaw clenched at the intentness of his voice._ "I'll come get her if you guys are too busy." _

_What you want to do is irrelevant," _Loki snapped_. "Don't come here. You'll only disturb her." _

_excuse me?" _the man's voice dropped low._ "Who the fuck are you to tell me not to come and see my girlfriend?" _

Loki pressed his lips together silently, focusing his gaze on one of the dark corners of the room.

_Who else is there?"_ Michael demanded.

He paused._ "It's just me, at the moment." _

More silence ensued

_What the hell is going on?" _

_I told you, Cerys had a fall. That's why she hasn't answered any of your correspondences." _

_No, I'm talking about you two." _

A hint of satisfaction gleaned from Loki's chest._ "I'm sorry, w__hat exactly are you implying?"_

_Cut the crap, man," _Michael's voice suddenly took on a forthright tone—as though he'd been waiting on a reason for this confrontation._ "You want to tell me that her best friend's kept her around unconscious, from a fall that was bad enough to knock her out, and hasn't take her to a hospital?" _he paused. "_She's been acting weird around you since you came to town, and now you're answering her phone after she ignores me all day?" _

He rolled his eyes, _"I assure you, Michael, she's quite steadfast in her loyalties."_

_Glad you've tested it out." _

Loki chuckled, impressed by the man's boldness—perhaps something they had in common—though the sentiment was heavily overshadowed by his amusement with the conversation. _"Well you're quite sharp, aren't you?" _

_Yeah, she loves that about me." _

Loki's smile faded, clenching with his jaw._ "I'll have her call you when she's well." _

_Yeah, sure." _

And that was all he said. With a heavy tap, Michael hung up the phone.

Loki blinked away the memory as he scanned Cerys' length—still laying motionlessly on the couch. If she'd been awake earlier in the day, then perhaps there was no need to stay up and watch her this night. He considered it as he sauntered around the edge of the couch, and strolled up to her. There was almost no change in her appearance—nothing to suggest she'd been awake. Only her positioning, which was opposite of what it was earlier that day.

"Cerys," he murmured, bending over to brush a lock of hair out of her face. She shifted slightly, and Loki pulled back as her eyes opened a bit.

"Loki?" she murmured. He stepped back as he watched her shift upright. "What—what time is it?"

"Just after midnight."

Cerys' face remained taut as she looked up at him—quickly averting eye contact— and nodded in acknowledgement. Loki furrowed a brow at the small deviation from her waking tone, and stepped off to the side, making room for her eyes to trail back toward the television behind him. They flickered toward him once more as he sat on the couch beside her, and she gave a full, sidelong glance before pulling her feet up onto the leather seat, nestling into the corner.

They sat in quiet for some time, both eyeing the screen that was mounted on the wall. Not a single thing that flickered across it registered in Loki's mind, and he wondered if it was the same for her.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked.

When she didn't answer, Loki turned toward her. The look on her face was utterly unreadable.

"I'm okay," she mumbled, sensing his eyes on her.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that."

Loki continued to stare at her for a bit, but Cerys was unyielding—she kept her eyes fixed on the television, reveling in her own stubbornness. Frustration bloomed slightly in Loki's chest. He had saved her life, after all—that must have entitled him to a conversation.

"When—"

"What did you say to Michael?" she interjected sharply, slicing her eyes toward him. "You answered my phone, didn't you?"

Loki kept his face taut, and nodded. "I did."

"_Why?_"

"We didn't know how long you would be asleep—would you have rather had him worry about you?"

"And you answered just to tell him I was hunky-dory? He isn't answering my calls now, Loki, he _always _answers my calls," she took the phone and thrust it to him frustratedly, before dropping it on the couch between them. "What did you say to him?"

"I only told him that you had a fall, and that you weren't awake to answer him."

The intentness in her eyes faltered a bit. "Is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. If you're looking for an explanation to his silence, he was unhappy that I answered the phone for you, and asked him not to come to Stark tower."

"Why would you tell him that?"

"Because we had no other explanation to give him. He wanted to collect you and take you to the hospital—what would he have thought, when the doctors came back and told him there was no head injury? Or that there was something _abnormal_ about your blood, from whatever tests they might've run?" Cerys looked at him quietly. "He would have thought you missing if I hadn't answered, and that would've made matters worse. I did everyone a favor, including you."

Cerys turned her eyes back to the TV without another word, and without a change in her expression. Sadness crept into the corners of her eyes, and Loki watched her for a moment, catching the way her eyes flickered toward him a few more times.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

"Your eyes seem lighter."

She rolled them back to the TV. "Yeah. Pepper said that too."

"Has anything else changed?"

"No."

"Let me have a look at them," he said, sliding toward her.

Cerys turned toward him sharply. "No," she said, and he paused mid-slide, though he was already close to her.

"Why?"

Uncertainty fluttered through her expression as she turned back to the TV, eyes glistening under the flashing lights. She pressed her lips tightly into a thin line, holding back whatever it was that was aching to be said.

"I'm only here to help you," he said. "You know that."

"Yeah, I totally do," Cerys' voice choked a bit. "That's exactly why you came back to town. To _help_. That's why you screwed with my head, kissed me, slept with my roommate, and then—" her voice trailed off.

And then what?

Loki furrowed a brow tiredly at her. "I saved your life, Cerys. If you try, you may remember clutching to me on that rooftop."

"Like that means something. Tony saved my life that night, not you."

That stung. Try as she may, Loki wouldn't accept the direction she decidedly took in this conversation. That night on the roof, she clung to him like he were life itself—that was far from nothing. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be possessed."

"Yeah, Pepper told me," Cerys answered sternly. "You did it without talking to any of them. And it would've happened anyway, with or without you."

Aggravation had really begun to coil in Loki's chest, and he moved to get off the couch. He hadn't expected the others to understand that he'd done it to spare them Cerys' hatred, but he also hadn't anticipated being dismissed so readily by Cerys herself. Hatred would've been better than indifference. "Fine. If I'm so inconsequential, I'll just leave you be to live your life—"

"_No, you—" _Cerys growled as she leaned forward. Loki tensed, looking back at her. "Y-you…" His eyes widened as he watched the thoughts wisp through her eyes.

Once they brimmed with tears, she decided against whatever she was going to say, and sighed frustratedly as she plopped back against the couch. Loki watched as she recoiled, shifting away so that her knees were now facing the opposite direction—where he slid from.

Meanwhile, he could think of nothing else to do but watch—watch as she wiped her tears away, and hardened her sidelong glare at the TV. It was just behind him now, but she stared past him stubbornly, refusing to meet his eyes. Loki felt the light of the film casting a shadow down on him from behind, and the softness of Cerys' expression was ever present—even in her strongest attempt at indifference.

The toughness of this woman…

Loki tilted his head slightly, lowering his head into her line of sight. She looked away again.

"Cerys, I'm sorry," he said, casting his eyes down with sincerity—despite the frustration still simmering in his chest. "I shouldn't have done what I did with your friend—she was the path of least resistance to overcoming some... Internal strife. Though it failed in doing that as well," he paused. "Because I meant what I said in your cell. And now that you've learned the truth, I'll leave you be if that's what you want. I'll go as far as you want me to go, you need only send me away. Before all this, I'd considered leaving anyway, to go back to Norway." When he looked back up, something of a flash had zipped through Cerys' expression, and her eyes darted toward him, softened as she regarded him with… shock? "In fact, I... I've already arranged with Stark to find me a flight back home."

A moment passed, and Cerys did not relent in her glare.

"You're going back?" she practically whispered, still staring at him intently, no longer able to hide the hint of fear tackling her will. All of it reflected in her eyes as she stared back at him, her lips parting and closing as decision after decision flashed in her eyes, shoved down to collect in her heaving chest.

The confusion and vulnerability was palpable, and Loki narrowed his eyes confusedly. He pondered his next move briefly, before leaning into the atmosphere suddenly—into her—and saw that she didn't recoil. By the look on her face, he really hadn't expected her to. He was just close enough to reach out, and he dared to raise a hand to her face.

"Dare I say," Loki breathed out, keeping his face taut, while his voice dropped to its lowest pitch. His eyes flickered down to her mouth as he drew closer, but hers didn't move. "You don't want me to?"

Cerys furrowed a brow, keeping her eyes fixed as he brushed his fingers against her neck, leaning closer to her. Loki caught her eyes dropping down to his lips just briefly, and he observed her features like a drawing—feeling the heat rising from her body as she studied him back, matching his intensity. The faintest grin ghosted his face as he leaned even further, barely grazing her skin in the glow of the television.

"You've a decision to make, Cerys—when you do get around to talking to that _diversion_ of yours…" He drew intentness in with every breath. Loki had but to move, just a bit, and his lips—which were barely brushing hers already—would have collided fully with her own. For now, at least, he would settle for the licks of air blowing back against him as he spoke, "You'd do well to remember how you feel right_ now."_

Her eyelids flickered heavily, brows knitted just a bit… Heat came off of her in plumes, as her body melted into the couch—settling them both into an intimate space. Loki blinked slowly, relishing the wisps of air escaping her parted lips, before tearing away.

She nearly shuddered as he rose, and stalked briskly across the room—knowing she was watching. He crossed the room pointedly, aiming straight for his bedroom at the end of the hall—where she had long since been invited… but not this night.

* * *

**I wrote another chapter for you guys this week because the response I got to the last one was cray cray. So many more reviews than normal, it was humbling and I didn't even know how to compile a personalized response for all your guys' thoughtful feedback. Jane Rogers, you squeezed my heart when you said this made you late for school. I can only comfortably write 2,000 words a day (this was way more), so I decided to show my appreciation in the way I figured you guys would enjoy most :) Life is short, I take nothing and no one for granted!**

**Now, I've been DYING to write that confrontation between Loki and Michael. One of you pointed out that Michael is understanding, and you're completely right! But he's also observant, and I feel a little bit bad for him… Nine times out of ten, people know when their partner is pulling away, so he's been in a bit of pain through all this too, though he's been trying to be a good boyfriend. It's been a lesson in communication for him, too.**

**ALSO it was really important to me to have Loki confront Cerys about being honest with herself, though he needed more under his belt than empty accusations. That's why he "went in for the kill" on the couch - her physical response was his smoking gun.**

**As always, thank you all so much. God and the Siren got finished because of you guys, and Siren's Mark happened because of you too. (Also, sorry if you guys still come across typos/grammar typos. The real editing process is way more rigorous than what I do here, and it frustrates me endlessly to come back and find MORE TYPOS)**

* * *

_***Quick after-note to one reviewer in particular (a guest), mentioning Cerys doing dancing/music outside the performances: First off, your input is neither silly nor petty! Your input is important, and it makes me a better writer. I definitely could've incorporated more of her music/dancing in God and the Siren, and I'll keep that in mind moving forward. Though I think it still would've taken more of a backseat in Siren's Mark because of everything going on, working/training with AIM/SHIELD, the choreography job, Loki, etc… That back burner movement of her creativity was sort of what I tried to get across in the studio scene. Thank you very much for pointing that out so respectfully.***_


	16. Chapter 16: Easier said than done

I must've called Michael another five or six times before he finally answered, and agreed to meet with me late the following afternoon. No doubt he was swayed by the increased franticness of my voicemails. I was just about ready to give up—after all, if there's one thing I really do hate, it's being ignored.

Granted, it took me a while to get back to him too, but I actually had a reason for it. He owed it to me to hear me out at least, and I couldn't help the scintilla of annoyance with his persistently poor conflict management skills…

Still, that faded to the back of my mind as we talked.

For four hours.

Four agonizing, tearful (on my end) hours, brimming with total honesty.

And by the end of it, Michael had stormed out of the dark lobby of Stark Tower, leaving me crying silently on one of the leather couches… And I could hardly blame him for his ire, for all the things he found out about tonight. Until now, I hadn't told him about the night that Loki kissed me. I hadn't told him about my history with him. Given that alone, Michael was angry that I'd continued spending time with him as well, despite my insistence that none of it was recreational—I only saw him occasionally, when I was on… professional business.

The was another strike to the record of things that were kept secret, and I hadn't divulged it tonight.

Michael had immediately noticed the lightness of my eyes, within the first minute of walking into the lobby. He commented on the golden hue they'd taken on, despite my effort to mask it by keeping the lights off, and leaving the space illuminated only by the outside. At the end of it all, I still couldn't tell him anything without compromising his safety. The more he knew about S.H.I.E.L.D business, the more he _saw _of it, the closer he'd get—the more danger he'd be in. And it wasn't until that moment that I realized just how foolish I had been to think that I could keep it from him.

He would've found out eventually, if we'd stayed together…

About an hour after his departure, an hour into my independent crying, I finally pick myself up and go back up to the penthouse. Everyone's asleep, so I don't disturb anyone, and no one disturbs me. I grab the blanket strewn over the back of one of the couches and throw it over my shoulders, settling into one of the corners with my laptop. With the TV on at a low volume, I spend the entirety of the night crying—and looking at apartment listings.

…I can't stay here, after all. Nor can I go back to the loft. That place isn't home anymore, and this never was. So I cry, and cry, and cry some more, until my eyeballs are burning from just keeping open. Somehow I'd managed to focus enough to save a couple of listings before passing out, and am woken again in the morning by a knock at the door.

Ordinarily, I would've been woken by my alarm to get ready for work. I'd missed the past two days, and given them the same excuse that I gave Michael—I had a terrible fall, was knocked unconscious, and have a doctor's note to show for it. A S.H.I.E.L.D physician, granted—being on the organization's payroll comes with that sort of perk.

I trudge slowly off the couch, feeling the crust crumbling out of the corners of my eyes as I rub them absently and head toward the door. A quick glance at the digital clock on the wall tells me it's 10 AM, which means I must've somehow slept through everyone getting ready and leaving the apartment. Save for Thor and Loki, who could very well be at home, locked up in their rooms.

At least, that's the impression until Thor comes shuffling down the hallway in plaid pants and a bro tank.

"Morning," I mumble, pausing to wait for him to catch up with me—momentarily noting just how motherfucking swole the man is.

"Good morning," he answers brightly, as though he's been awake for some time. "How are you?"

"Swell." I hold up a thumb as I turn back to the door. "Do you know who that is?"

Thor sighs enthusiastically. "I believe so, yes."

He saunters along ahead of me as he takes the doorknob and opens it.

"Hi!" An overly cheerful delivery boy appears on the other side—holding up a mass of green pine needles with the help of two other guys. "Package for mister Stark?"

"Sure, I've got it," Thor reaches out to sign the little screen.

Meanwhile, I arch a brow at the Christmas tree shedding slightly all over the floor, watching as they carry it over to the far side of the couches. I'd almost forgotten that Christmas was just around the corner, and the realization of having to return Michael's present draws tears to my eyes as the delivery guys leave.

They worsen as I turn back to the couch, due in no small part to the demo reel of memories starting up again—which I'd spent hours last night trying to sever myself from. I'd gotten maybe 2% of the way through that metaphorical cord, and it'll obviously take a while to get through the rest.

Guilt weighs me down doubly, at everything Michael must be feeling…

I'd gone over it so many times in my head, about everything I told him—all my reasoning—last night. How I hadn't told him about what Loki did immediately because it didn't mean anything, and didn't change anything. I was going to, but two weeks flew by quicker than I could've imagined, and then he sprung living together on me… There wasn't a single 'right' moment to do it, and I only realized later that there never would've been a good moment for that conversation. And that I made it more important by concealing it.

As for the feelings that had slowly resurfaced… I imagine that hurt him the most. I hadn't truly cheated on him in the most traditional sense, but it was awful for me to have failed to squander what I felt. "_I would've rather you fucked him,_" Michael had said in a rage, at some point during those four hours. That sliced through me like a knife. He would've rather I slept with Loki, than had any kind of emotional connection with him…

I wipe the tears away briskly as Thor comes back around the couch, pausing as he gives me a double take. "Wh—are you alright?"

I look up at him, but I barely feel the movement in my devastated state. "Yeah—I mean… Yeah, Michael and I broke up." I swallow thickly, concealing the rising sob.

"Oh," Thor goes silent for a moment, and then saunters over, sinking onto the couch beside me slowly. "Do you, uh… Do you want to talk about it?"

Not here. I know better by now than to talk openly with Loki anywhere in the immediate vicinity—he can hear through walls. So I shake my head, "Not now." I grin weakly. "But thanks."

Thor nods, arching a brow and gesturing over his shoulder. "No one else is home, so…" He gives me a knowing look. "If that changes anything."

I look back down at my knees, wondering if it really does change anything. Finally, I shrug. "Just wasn't the right time for us to be together, I guess…" my voice trails off as my heart suddenly thunders, pounding at my chest—adding to the sickening, emotional malaise already dominating my body.

My leaps seal themselves pointedly, as though shutting me up before I accidentally confess something I'll regret later. Sensing my reluctance after a few moments of silence, Thor casts his eyes back to the tree. "Well… If we're not going to talk, I suppose we ought to put that up?"

I sniffle, swiping my fingers underneath my eyes. "Maybe."

"I can do it myself, but… I may need help lifting the tree," he says, amusement ghosting his tone.

My nostrils flare just a bit, as the hint of a smile tugs on my lip. "_Uh huh._"

A hand appears on my shoulder as he pats me lightly. "I'm going to get started," he says, before standing and approaching the tree. "Perhaps there's a film you could put on, something holiday related?"

I glance at the TV, and reach for the remote. "Well, I mean… I could literally put on _the Holiday,_" I murmur.

"What's that about?" he asks, glancing up at me in between tearing the little ropes apart.

I press my lips together, trying to word it in a way that _won't_ make me start bawling again. "This lady in L.A. swaps houses with another lady in England for Christmas, and then they both go and… make some new friends." Lies. They go and meet their true loves.

But whatever, this movie's never let me down in the middle of a bad mood.

* * *

I was wrong.

I was so very, very wrong in thinking that I wouldn't start bawling in the middle of the movie. Thor was having a hard enough time managing the Christmas tree setup and organizing a few of the boxes with decorations, without having to deal with my weepiness in the mean time. I'd tearfully shooed him back to whatever he was doing a number of times, and in retrospect, both my snot-filled state and his awkward uneasiness would probably have been pretty comical to witness from the side.

With reruns of Big Bang Theory now playing on the TV, my mood settles by the time everyone else comes home. Thor has long since put up the tree, without decorating it, and it's good to go for family fun time by the afternoon.

Pepper has always loved decorating Christmas trees, but hates putting them up. Especially since they'd switched to real trees, which are doubly heavy and doubly annoying. So it was a blessing to have Thor around this year.

"Wow, this one's… taller than I thought it'd be," Pepper says as she steps around the couch.

I decidedly avoid looking back at the other two pairs of footsteps moving around behind me—knowing one of them belongs to Loki. Clearly, he was off with the two of them on consultation business again.

I had texted Pepper about what happened earlier in the day, and we planned to talk about it later on, but as of now, she's doing a pretty good job at hiding what she knows. Only a flicker of a reaction in her face reveals her thoughts as she glances down at me.

"Spiked Eggnog, anyone?" Tony called out from the kitchen.

"Me," I raise a finger in the air, and hop over the back of the couch.

In the corner of my eye, I see Loki leaning against the table, and feel his eyes on me as I pass by—sporting as much of a casual expression as I possibly can as I saunter toward the kitchen. Trying to ignore how I _notice_ just how goddamn tall he is—like I haven't noticed it before.

"How strong, on a scale of one to death?" he asks.

"Surprise me," I say as I come around the kitchen island. Tony reaches for one cup, and then pauses, opting for the slightly darker one instead.

"Here," he hands it to me. "Probably need it more than I do."

He gives me a meaningful look, immediately making clear that the rumor mill has reached him. "Damn straight," I raise it up to clink glasses with him before he takes a sip, and continues on working on two other drinks.

I glance at Loki as I raise the cup to my lips, noting his watchful eyes observing Pepper and Thor setting up the Christmas tree. A sharp, burning sensation suddenly has me doubling over the counter, and bits of red droplets fly out of my mouth as I hover over the sink—spitting the eggnog back out onto the metal.

Everyone's heads snap toward me as Tony takes two large strides toward me, looking between my bloody lip and the sink. "What the hell? What just happened!?"

I continue coughing it out, feeling my eyes tearing up as blood continues pouring from my mouth. I grab the removable nozzle and turn on the water, pouring it into my mouth out and gargling—trying not to barf as I get all of the eggnog out of my mouth.

"_What did you put in this!?_" I choke out.

"Just eggnog and rum!" Tony throws a glance at the cups. "I—I just drank it, there's nothing wrong with it!" He looks toward Pepper as she rushes over to the kitchen, with Thor and Loki remaining where they are—standing straight and alert.

"What the hell," I whisper, looking at the blood in the sink, and wincing as bits of my arm start burning.

I drop the nozzle, and it reclines back as I look at my right arm—seeing the skin burning where the eggnog had splattered on it, like some toxic chemical. I run the raw skin under the water, eyes widening as it quickly heals itself when I pull it back out. "_What the hell_…" I breathe out.

Silence thickens around me as I look over at the eggnog and spiced rum that Tony had put in the drink. "Give me that," I hiss as I grab both the bottles. "_Don't fucking tell me…_"

I pour a little of both into the sink as I dab my finger over them. It burns after touching the rum, and I cry out a little at the sliver of skin that burns from it—who knew one tiny finger could cause so much pain?

"What the hell is this!?" I look between Pepper and Tony. "Am I allergic to alcohol now!?"

Before either of them get the chance to answer, I turn sharply and lunge for the wine rack, grabbing the cheapest, opened bottle I can find and performing the same test—sparing just a little bit of the zinfandel to do so.

When nothing happens, I hardly know whether I should be relieved or pissed—relieved that there was no reaction to wine, or pissed that there're foods that I can't even touch now. With the rum, I suppose this is one fucking way to curb those alcoholic tendencies at least—which had the potential to get worse, given my emotional state of things. Now I'll be terrified to touch any of it.

"This has to be part of the mutuations," Pepper nods her head briskly. "You can't touch this anymore," she says, grabbing the spiced rum. "What about food? Have you had any reactions to food? Or anything else?"

I've barely eaten _today,_ but yesterday's meals were fine. "Everything's the same," I say, still swallowing down the rawness of what little rum I'd swallowed. "I just… _I don't know_."

"You don't know what?"

I shake my head, swallowing hard as I feel the tears rising in my throat again. "_I don't know_," I growl as I set the bottle down on the couch—and shatter it on contact.

I jump back from the sudden noise, as streams of red pour over the edge. I look between the shattered glass and my arm, not _seeing_ any difference to my muscle tone. Tony grabs a mound of paper towels and starts pulling them apart, and I grab them immediately, feeling the panicked tears taking over as I bend over and help him clean up the mess.

"_I'm sorry_," I manage to breathe out without sobbing, leaving the pink wad of moist towels on the counter before stalking around the edge of the counter.

"Cerys!" Pepper calls out to me.

I stop momentarily, staring across the space—across Loki's widened eyes burning holes into me—and offer her a weak, trembling gesture of reassurance. "I—I just need a minute…"

It comes out in a single, shaking breath, but I don't wait for anyone to respond before stalking back to the guest bedroom and shutting the door behind me. Some amount of time goes by that I spend pacing back and forth across the room, trying not to let my head spin into insanity, and it takes a while just for me to regain my composure.

I am a fucking _adult. _I _will not_ fall into hysteria.

_I will not._

A soft knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts, and without thinking, I stride straight toward the distraction and throw it open. Loki's face meets me on the other side, stoney and unfeeling as always.

"Are you alright?" he asks tautly in that stupid, baritone voice that suddenly grips my stupid, panicky chest.

"I'm fine."

His eyes flicker over me in a quick movement, and he stares me down before sharply turning and striding away—seemingly satisfied with the clipped response. "_She's fine,_" I hear him repeat down the hall.

"Sure," Pepper murmurs before her footsteps appear in the hallway. I leave the door ajar as I step away from it, calming myself in preparation for the conversation currently approaching me.

"Cerys," she says, surprisingly calm, as she steps through it. "We need to go to the lab."

"What?"

"We need to test your DNA and see what's going on."

"I'm not a lab rat, Pepper," I snap, a bit more irritably than I'd intended to.

"Then let me get a blood sample—look at me, I'm not playing around with you right now. What happened was dangerous."

"I know it was dangerous," I tilt my head. "I just…. Fuck, _fine. Okay, _just do it. Just get a syringe."

Flipping on 'agent' mode, Pepper turns and walks back out the door. Straightening my back, I strut after her to the living room, waiting for her to fetch a syringe. I hate needles more than anything on the planet, but that's a small blip in the world of frustration and anger I'm in right now.

Even Loki's watchful gaze barely fazes me as I stride out into the living room with her, and hold out my arm for her to do what she's got to do.

"Ready?" she looks up at me, and I nod, looking away. A moment goes by where nothing happens, until I finally hear her murmur. "_What the hell?" _

I look back at her. "What?"

Pepper lifts the syringe up in front of me, with the metal bit bent in half. My eyes widen as I stare at it, and snatch it from her hand. "Did you… I didn't even feel it?"

"_Uhh,_" she sighs. "_Okay,_ let's try a cheek swab then."

That takes another moment or so, mostly for her to run to the bathroom and grab a Q-tip. No mishaps there as she swabs the inside of my cheeks, making a bit of a face as she drops it into a zip-lock bag.

"Now what?"

She slams the zip-lock bag on the table, shutting her eyes with a dramatic look of great restraint. "Now…" her voice trembles a bit as she turns toward everything. "There's _nothing_ to do but wait. We'll see what comes back, and we'll deal with it when it does. So we're going to decorate the Christmas _tree now, alright?_"

The calm ire in her voice is more disturbing than anything I've ever heard in my life, and the entire apartment falls silent. Even my own thoughts fade to the back for a moment, padded by the shrillness of her voice…

"Can we do that!?" she jerks her hand out to the company, when no one responds. "Can we decorate the Christmas tree!?"

Three pairs of widened eyes stare back at her—even Loki's got the hint of frightfulness haunting his look.

"Yeah," Tony murmurs from the counter. "Yeah, let's just… let's decorate the tree."

The tension obviously hasn't left a single person in the room, yet everyone—save Loki and myself—starts going through the motions of decorating the Christmas tree. One by one. Like nails on a chalkboard.

* * *

The initial shock fades to a dull headache by the time the Christmas tree is finished, and even the bright, flickering lights and pretty toys do little to distract me from my thoughts. Even the TV does little to tear me away from them, for even a moment.

And, who knows—maybe it has something to do with Loki still sauntering around the apartment every twenty minutes or so, like he owns the place. Not once do I dare to follow his movements like I might someone else's—but what the hell is he even doing?

In the middle of a toothpaste commercial gripping my attention much more intently than it should, a glass of water suddenly appears beside me, held at the rim by a pale hand. I trail up the toned arm to its owner, peering at the TV equally hard with emerald eyes.

"That's not vodka, right?"

"No, it's water."

I look back down, grabbing the water from his hands and sipping it a bit—my only answer to the gesture. I'd half expected him to say something else, or to use it as an excuse to start a conversation. Instead, he turns and stalks straight back down the hallway, disappearing into the darkness as he's been doing for the past three hours or so.

Something tightens in my chest, but I roll my eyes back toward the screen.

Half prepared to scoff at the sound of footsteps appearing again, Pepper emerges from the hallway instead—looking tired as hell, wrapped up in a blanket.

"Hey," she mumbles as she comes around the couch, and plops down next to me.

"Hey." I grin weakly. "You okay?"

Pepper shrugs. "Are you?"

"Wondering where the good times'll be back, but yeah. I'm okay."

"…tell me about it," she says, producing a mug from underneath the protective fabric, filled with that stupid eggnog.

"My mom'd be so happy if she knew that I can't drink liquor anymore."

"You might still be able to drink vodka, never know."

I shrug. "I'm preparing myself for the worst."

"Don't be ridiculous," she says. "If you stop drinking, it's only for the better."

"Couldn't have happened after my breakup?" I say pointedly, and Pepper gives me a look. That _'you know who's home, right?'_ look. I nod, returning it with a meaningful one of my own—_I know,_ _it's fine._

"Yeah, it could've waited I guess," she continues. "But why make any of our lives easier, right?"

"Yup, they're too simple as it is." I roll my eyes. "Clearly got to get out more, get some more _excitement_."

Pepper pauses, looking a little doubtful. "Speaking of going out… What're you going to do about work?"

I look back at her. "Hm?"

"Michael's gonna be there tomorrow, isn't he?"

Something heavy sinks in my chest. "Well… yeah, it's not like I can do anything about it though."

She arches a brow. "Well sure, but… I'm just wondering if you're planning on leaving the Academy or something. Or, if you think he might."

"_Pep,_ come on. Would you leave Stark industries if you and Tony broke up?"

"I mean," she scoffs lightly. "It's not like I'd have trouble finding another job, but… I don't know."

I shake my head. "I can't leave now. I've worked way too hard to get to where I am. I mean, yeah, it's not much… but it's still something, and I don't know where I'd go anyway. I'll just be professional and cry in the bathroom, if anything. If he wants to leave, he can leave."

Pepper stares for a moment, before bobbing her head. "And what about…." she cocks her head toward the hallway. "Are you going to… you know?"

"No," I respond immediately in a murmur. "Michael… made it pretty clear that he thinks I cheated on him. And, I don't know—I don't really feel like I did. But what he feels is what matters… and I don't want to hurt him more than I already have."

"Hurt him how?"

A ball rises in my throat, along with tears on the bottom rim of my eyes. "You didn't see him, Pep," my voice drops, trembling a bit at the memory of his expression. "He looked so hurt when I told him everything. Imagine how he'd feel if I went ahead and… you know."

Pepper knits her brows together sadly as she looks away. "Yeah," she says softly. "I guess."

"I've got to do something right, you know?" I sip the water that Loki gave me, seeing his bright green eyes flashing in my mind. I swallow the tearful ball, and the warm tension spilling through my chest. "Gotta try to do something right, end up in the right place… After everything I've done."

"Come on, it's not like you could've helped a lot of it."

"No, I could have. I could've done more," A tear trails down my cheek as I swallow thickly. "It was my job to protect my relationship, and I didn't do it. Least I can do now is not cause any more damage."

"Cer, it's not your job to protect him anymore… it's done. Over with."

"You think you wouldn't do the same in my place?" I shake my head. "It's all easier said than done."

"I don't know what I'd do in your situation," she mumbles. "But… this is life, Cer. There's not always a… _clean_ way out, where no one gets hurt."

"I know…"

"I just want you to try and do what makes you happy."

A grin tugs on the corner of my lip. "Yeah, I know."

The pitying look grows in her expression, and she sighs frustratedly. After a moment or so, she chuckles softly. "Don't know if your mom'll say the same though, when you tell her kids aren't in the near future. 'Do what makes _her_ happy.'"

I snort quietly. "Yeah, totally looking forward to the 'ticking clock' conversation."

"_Love_ that one," she holds up her mug, and I lean forward to clink it with mine, before she settles against the back of the couch, and rolls her head back toward the TV.

"I'll just tell her the truth, things didn't work out," I lean back, casting my eyes up toward the screen with her, blinking away the image of Loki the other night.

I still remember it so clearly—the panic that suddenly bloomed when I thought he was leaving. The awful, disgustingly transparent clarity that coursed through me when he gave me that ultimatum.

It was the moment that my relationship ended.

As much of an ass that Loki has been, it wasn't until I thought he was going to disappear again, that I realized that that love had never really gone anywhere. Only shoved deep into a crevice of my heart, and not enough time had gone by for it to disappear entirely. He was the greatest relationship I'd ever had in my life, and _neither of us wanted it to end_—that made closure a pipe dream.

Those drunken nights in Switzerland… How we danced at the gala for the first time… How we laughed and danced and paraded around together at the Asgardian festival… how, with every touch and smile, he made me feel so deeply engraved in his heart.

I fucking hated myself for letting the floodgates open.

"…and the clock's always ticking, nothing I can do about that."

* * *

**Hey guys, sorry I went a bit MIA there. / I'm back though!**

**So, I've read a lot of books and fanfic depicting someone leaving their partner for someone else, and they always make it seem like it's such an easy, cut-and-dry thing to do. Totally easy to see what the right decisions are. **

**I've always felt that that was completely unrealistic - I couldn't imagine leaving my partner _easily_, even if I were truly in love with someone else. Given that all OC's are pieces of my soul, I couldn't imagine Cerys not feeling the same way. **

**My mom always told me "do the right thing, and you'll end up in the right place." Even if every fiber of your being is screaming that it doesn't want to do the right thing, 9 times out of 10, it's still the best option. But that being said, it's not always realistic. People make mistakes, and life doesn't always have flawless options... And that's how we ended up here with Cerys and Loki. Don't worry though, fun(ny) cheerful times are ahead - we'll be meeting Cerys' mom next chapter. ;) **

**Thank you, as always, to my reviewers. I honestly still can't believe how much attention this series has gotten. I really, really appreciate it so much, and always will. Til next time. :) **


	17. Chapter 17: Poppin' some bubbly

"Pep, I don't want to go," I repeat for the fifth time, raising my voice a bit so that the phone speaker catches my voice from the table. "I'm already spending New Year's with you guys, and I'm literally looking at fifteen more boxes to unpack—I'll just come by on Christmas morning."

Who knew I _owned_ so much crap? Packing it all up took an entire weekend, and actually moving it all was a process too. Since I wasn't contractually bound to Tony's complex—I was a manager, if nothing else—that aspect of moving out was easiest. Finding someone to take my room was pretty simple too, since college students move pretty frequently between terms.

Rita seemed a little suspicious at my departure, and didn't quite look like she believed my excuse of it being 'time to find my own place.' If she had even the slightest suspicion of how I was really feeling, then she'd have to have known that before jumping into bed with my ex. If that's the case, then…. what a bitch. Of all the guys that were available to her, she couldn't have found anyone else to drag home? Right across the hall from me?

Not that any of it matters now. I've certainly had the financial means to do this for a while—I guess I just needed the push. As for the rest of my roommates, my points about not being able to walk around naked in my own space seemed convincing enough—I added couch sex to the list, for good measure. But if Rita truly had the slightest suspicion about me, then I suspect that the rumor mill must've churned that out the minute I left… And I'm not sure which one of us it would've made look worse.

Still, this is a new beginning. A new beginning for a new year.

I'd even managed to stop by and get a small, fake little Christmas tree to make the place feel more like home. This year, I'd been planning on spending Christmas Eve with a fuzzy blanket, surrounded by boxes on the couch, my mom, and several cups of ramen mixed with sour cream (the looks I get when I buy the two items together is hilarious), and some movies. In the morning, we'd maybe head over to Pepper's place to see everyone, though I hadn't talked to her about bringing my mom yet.

Some people are close to their parents and relatives, but I'm not. I've long since outgrown the age of tolerating blood relationships that were toxic. I'd much rather opt for inviting my mom over to spend the holidays with me—alone, since my parents are going through a rough patch.

I'd only passingly mentioned the plan to Pepper, yet here my best friend was—still trying to convince me to attend a Christmas Eve company party.

"Come on," she whined. "Why do you want to spend Christmas Eve alone? That's just… _sad._"

"I am a strong, independent woman who don't need no heels and uncomfortable small talk. Plus, I won't be alone. My mom's coming to spend it with me."

Pepper sighed. "Oh right, I forgot about that—hey 'Mr. Stark,'" she moved the phone away. "_Guess who's coming to town for Christmas?_" There was a pause. "_Sheila._" Another pause. "Yup, I'm trying to get them over—Cer, what about your dad?""

"He's hanging back, they've been sort of…going through a rough patch, apparently."

"Oh, sorry to hear that."

I shrug. "Yeah, they're not getting a divorce as far as I know, but… Not spending Christmas is pretty bad. I guess we'll just wait and see." Sadness pinched my chest. It wouldn't surprise me if my parents divorced, considering how their marriage has been going the past few years, but it wouldn't be pleasant to hear about it. "Either way, I haven't even talked to her about what our actual plans are."

There was silence over the phone for a moment. "Okay, _look_…. here's the thing, if you leave me and Tony to go alone, they'll spend the entire night hounding us. Literally. You guys are strangers, so if you're there with us, they won't talk shop."

I pause in the middle of lifting up two paper-wrapped plates. "Are you seriously blackmailing me with your pain and suffering?"

"…Yes."

I cringed. "If Loki's there, it might not go well—you know how protective my mom is, and Christmas isn't the time to be putting out fires."

"I don't really think it'd matter, it's not like you two can't be in the same room together. I know Thor's coming, but I don't think he is."

"Oh," I murmur, setting several more dishes down on the overflowing table. "Okay—just out of curiosity, is there a reason?"

_Is he spending it elsewhere?_

"Just doesn't seem up for it, wants to stay home."

"Hm, okay. Well, I guess—" my voice cuts off as I nearly drop the cast iron skillet. "I mean I guess, I'll ask my mom if she's feeling up to it."

"Awesome, tell her there'll be cake."

I smirk. "Yeah, that'll do the trick."

"Yup," her voice lilts happily. "Say whatever you have to, just get her to come—it's gonna be a fun night."

* * *

"You think standing there will change anything? I'm not going," Loki insisted—again—while Thor remained rooted by the door.

He crossed his arms and smirked. "Then I shall stay here with you. Right here. Right in this doorway."

Loki huffed, rising from his bed and striding across the room. "Then I shall spend my holiday making yours miserable," he plopped onto his desk chair. "I don't understand why you won't go without me."

"Christmas is a time to be with family," Thor grinned knowingly. "You know Lady Cerys has agreed to come."

An old threat. One that barely fazed Loki as he rolled his eyes, and turned toward the screen. "I'm well aware. All the more reason for me to stay."

As if Thor could use that to goad him into coming—Cerys had made herself quite clear. Their relations had stagnated to a frustrating degree, and she all but avoided him openly. The message was loud and clear.

"She'll be bringing her mother," Thor added. Loki paused, and then resumed his browsing. "Thought that might peak your curiosity."

"Why on Earth would it do that?"

"Brother," Thor crooned knowingly. "If there's anything I've learned about the female species, it's that if their mothers hate you, you've no chance at ever pleasing them again…do you want Cerys' mother to be _unimpressed?" _

That was close to the line. Thor had been flirting with the edge for the entire conversation, barely treading into territory he had no business being in. After all, Loki had begun to feel his overstay in the States, and would have to decide sooner or later whether he should leave. Cerys' continued frustration at his indiscretion with that woman—whom he had not kept in contact with—and her insistence at 'protecting' the incomparable dullard of a man she'd left certainly leaned on the decision.

Regardless of how her cheeks tinged each time he walked into the room.

His tone was idle as he continued on. "Cerys' mother is the furthest thing from my mind. I'm not going."

"_Mhm_," Thor mused as he turned cross-armed toward the door. "We're leaving in thirty minutes."

* * *

Why did he succumb to the temptation? To the curiosity? There was absolutely no point whatsoever to his being here.

Sure, the venue was tolerable. Pleasant, even. Though it was a rather casual celebration for such a formal holiday—there were no exquisite gowns or elegant jewelry pieces. Everyone dressed comfortably. All were still presentable in their more-or-less festive apparel, but they were in the middle of the spectrum. There hadn't been any snowfall yet either, and the crowd dressed accordingly. It was due to start next month, but there was no knowing whether Loki would be around to see it.

Half the party had been held outside—namely for those who preferred a cloudy night on the golf course, to the staggering warmth of the club. A bit more iciness would've been perfect for a frost giant, but the night was surprisingly pleasant.

…Pleasant for the party-goers, anyway.

Loki was consequentially stuck with the inane jabber of small crowds bunching up together, engaging in warm conversation around him.

His own group had joined him outside, at the bottommost level of the downward slope. He'd hoped the courtyard situated at the very bottom would be more isolated, but the elegant outdoor furniture and fire pits were apparently too grand to resist. A number of tables were also laden with food and drink in various other areas, and all the fine walkways, railings, and pathways were adorned with holiday decorations.

Loki leaned back against his chair and stared out into the looming darkness—gentle rolling hills ensconced by the blackness of the night, figures of trees barely stretching up into the stars. All the while, his immediate surroundings were brightly lit, and festive music played loudly enough from one of the courtyards nearer to the doors.

He knew it was only a matter of time before his peace was disturbed—luckily, he'd managed to finish several large glasses of wine before the arrival of Cerys and her mother.

And when she did, Loki felt her before he saw her. That continuous hum of magic that now ensconced her constantly. With a gentle sip of his wine, Loki's eyes slid from the woods, toward the staircases that wound down the hill. There he saw her, walking arm-in-arm with a woman who bore a striking resemblance.

He took them both in momentarily, and looked away in a blink. Cerys looked so much like her mother—like a younger version, and much more beautiful in her fitted red dress, whose hem flowed above her knees with the gentlest movement. Granted, the coat that hung loosely around her backside did nothing to complement it.

Her mother—Sheila, as he'd her called—seemed on the younger side, but the shared style and color of hair was telling—the apple did not fall far from the tree. Cerys blinked surprisedly when he looked back and met her eyes, but it faded rather quickly—clearly, she was just as accustomed as he was.

"Hey guys," she grinned as she approached the group.

"Sheila!" Pepper stood and snaked her arms around the woman beside her. "Merry Christmas—it's so nice of you to come and join us!"

"Oh sweetheart, it's so good to see you again!" Sheila swayed with Pepper in a tight hug for a brief moment before pulling away. "Merry Christmas to you too!"

Loki brushed the edge of the glass against his lower lip, narrowing his eyes as he watched their interactions. Thor was already on his feet, and introductions were abuzz as he, Stark, and a few of their professional acquaintances stood to introduce themselves.

Loki glanced back and forth about the scene, as one of Stark's working partners—Joseph—stood to shake Cerys' hand. "Well, _hello,_" he said, leering openly at her chest. "What was your name, again?"

Even Sheila raised a brow at the blatant display, as she looked over her shoulder at them.

"Cerys," she answered, and the subtle grimace in her expression roused a grin. It faded quickly the instant she turned her attention to Loki. "And this," she looked back at her mother before gesturing in his direction. "Is Loki!"

His grin tightened into a handsome smile as he stood, setting down the glass and straightening to his full length. Cerys looked away, but her mother followed his movements carefully—particularly as he strode around the glass-encased fire pits, and held out a hand.

"It's very nice to meet you," he said smoothly, noting the same speck of dark green in Sheila's narrowed eyes that Cerys had. "The two of you look so much alike."

Loki's grin faltered at the glimmer of movement in Sheila's features—the tight grin that she offered in return. "Well it's very nice to meet you too," she answered. A bit more tautly than he'd.

His eyes jumped to Cerys in that moment—looking the slightest bit amused, with the tiny grin that ghosted her colored lips. There was clearly some sort of tacit exchange at play, and Loki's smile all but faded as he pulled back. He sank reproachfully as he stepped back toward his seat—pointedly ignoring the patronizing look on his brother's face as he sat down.

Thor—in all his endless eloquence—leaned over slightly in his seat, while Cerys and pulled a large chair over to her mother. "Told you," he muttered under his breath.

"Shut up," Loki hissed quietly, prompting a chuckle from his brother.

"Here, mom," Cerys said. "Take this chair."

"Oh perfect," she pulled it closer and plopped down. With a heavy sigh, she laid a hand on her daughter's arm and smiled toward Pepper and Stark. "So this place looks amazing—I didn't know we had such beautiful scenery out here!"

"Yeah it's gorgeous," Pepper answered. "And they decorated the club so well. Did you guys find it okay? I know it's a little bit out of the way…"

"Oh, we only got a little bit lost," Sheila waved her hand. "But it's alright, it was worth it."

Cerys blinked at her, suppressing a chuckle. "Yeah, the free food kept us going."

"Speaking of," Stark leaned forward, gesturing to a couple of filled champagne glasses sitting along the marble edges of the fire pits. He reached for one himself, replacing the empty one in his hand. "Ladies?"

"That, too!" Sheila reached out and took two among them, and Cerys' grin faltered slightly as she held one out to her. "Here you go, darling."

She eyed it nervously before taking it, and sipped a tiny bit before hiding a painful grimace. The conversation went on around them, but Loki watched as she set it down on the small, glass table beside her.

He wasn't the only one to have noticed—Sheila leaned toward her daughter a bit. "Are you alright?" she murmured quietly.

Cerys shook her head, "Yeah, sorry—I'm fine."

Loki narrowed his eyes. She wasn't fine—he could smell the bit of blood from where he sat. The bright color she'd worn hid the hints of crimson on her lip, but it was definitely there. Evidently, even the champagne was a bit too far from water for her to drink.

He continued nursing his wine glass for the better part of an hour, while every now and again, when it was safe, Loki glanced in her direction—tuning out the surrounding company. Only once did she snap her eyes up to his, and he held them until she looked away first, with the subtlest twinge of red betraying her firm expression.

She'd certainly gotten better at wearing a mask. Perhaps she'd learned from him. One of the many ways she'd grown over the years—aside from the obvious maturation of her appearance. Cerys was still young, of course, but even she was not immune to age as the years went by. Under the right circumstances, even the youngest of them could occasionally don a new stress line somewhere on their faces.

Though try as he might, Loki couldn't find the ones he'd previously seen. Even the smallest imperfections seemed to diminish. Simply gone, leaving Cerys looking rather… radiant.

Perhaps the serum was to blame for that.

A hint of movement caught his attention from the side, and he looked over in time to see Cerys' mother avert her suspicious gaze.

By the way she blinked heavily and swayed a bit, her inebriation was clear—and she was impressively quick, considering that. Sheila may have looked away, but Loki kept his expression taut and icy as he studied her for a moment. When he was satisfied that she wouldn't look again, he turned his attention back to his wine glass—staring into the fire, instead. Pondering on…

"I think it's a karaoke machine?" Pepper's mumble suddenly cut through his concentration, and he looked over. He knew what that word meant—Cerys had mentioned it back in time. "Yeah, that's it…"

He looked back up in their direction, and a look of panic struck Cerys' expression as her eyes widened.

"Hey, let's go up there?" her mother nudged, leaning in. She whispered something humorously as she patted her daughter on the shoulder, but Loki hadn't tuned in to hear it.

The panic settled to a cringe as Cerys shook her head slightly, "No mom, that's not a good idea…"

"Why not?" Sheila's expression turned grave—in a motherly sort of way. Loki swallowed thickly—it was so similar to the way that Frigga's cheeks sank when she was failing to persuade him of something.

"I _dare _you," Pepper pointed to her friend, clearly inebriated herself. "Triple dog dare, girlfriend."

Sheila grinned knowingly at the woman, and leaned over to kiss Cerys on the cheek—like a well-behaved child. "Your best friend triple dog dared you. It's settled—come on!" she stood, weaving carefully between the furniture as she headed toward the edge of the courtyard.

Cerys, meanwhile, turned to her friend. "_This is bad…_"

The cheer melted from Pepper's face as she regarded her. "What?"

"My mom's _tone deaf, Pep," _Cerys hissed.

Silence.

"…whut?" Stark leaned forward, laughing a bit. "How can your mom be tone deaf and then have _you_?"

"_Cerys, come on!_" Sheila beckoned to her from a bit away.

Cerys gave her a friendly nod before glaring back at him. "I get it from my dad—you're coming with me."

Loki snorted quietly as he watched her stand, grabbing Pepper by the wrist. Feeling infinitely satisfied with the amusing turn of events, he leaned back in his chair a bit.

Thor turned and looked over at him. "I bet you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Loki smirked, raising the glass to his lips.

Thor paused for a moment. "…I didn't know she was tone deaf, did you?"

"I would never have guessed," he shook his head, and then grinned wryly. "Else I would've been the one to mention it, of course."

Thor rolled his eyes. "Sure you would," he said, sipping from a bottle of beer.

"Jeez," Stark mumbled down the line of chairs. "Well this'll either be really good, or really bad."

"I'll wager it'll be amusing," Loki mused smoothly.

Thor shrugged. "Perhaps Cerys is just being overly critical."

"Guess we're about to find out…" said Stark.

Loki turned his attention to the middle set of courtyards, where Cerys and her mother stood—along with Pepper, and several other individuals. A group activity, it seemed. There wasn't likely to be any chance of hearing them individually, though Cerys still looked singularly uncomfortable. Even when the group collectively began to hum one of the tunes, Cerys cringed a bit as she looked toward her mother—smiling at least, to keep the mood light.

He might've felt bad for her, standing up there in such a sorry state. It wasn't until Pepper goaded her into it that she grinned, and parted her lips to sing. Loki tuned out the rest of the noises as he waited on her—it'd been so long since he'd heard her, after all. So long since he witnessed the joy and amusement that it brought her.

It wasn't amusement that came with the first lyric. Not by the sudden, incoherent noise that suddenly poured from her throat.

The rest of the group paused, though the background music came on. A number of them looked confused, but so did Pepper and Sheila—for different reasons. Cerys herself stood dumbfounded, all the color draining from her face.

Silence settled into the area, as some of the surrounding groups paused to look back at her. Many with disapproving looks—as if Cerys was some drunkard without a scintilla of control over her voice. Without any care or considering for disturbing their evening.

Loki's eyes widened as he leaned forward in his seat, watching as her cheeks turned pale. Even her mother—supposedly tone deaf—laid a hand on her shoulder concernedly. Even Sheila, in the brief moment that she had to hum, sounded better than the sound that escaped Cerys' lips.

Slowly, she raised a hand to her throat and swallowed hard.

Loki rose from his seat slowly, watching her features sink with shock and disbelief.

"_Um…_" he heard her whisper, stepping away from the group in a daze. "_I'll be right back. Stay here, mom, both of you,_" she looked toward Pepper one last time. "_No more fires_."

The corner of her widened eyes glistened as she turned and raced up the stairs, despite her mother's protests, and back to the clubhouse. Of course she couldn't tell her what was happening—not without disclosing everything. And she was no state of mind of put the information together carefully.

Loki's legs carried him after her, passing by Pepper and Sheila on his way up.

"What's going on?" Sheila turned to Pepper in a panic, while Pepper staggered to find the right words. "What's wrong with her voice?"

He paid them no mind as he strode by smoothly, putting one foot after another as he followed after Cerys—despite the lack of comfort and overwhelming questions reeling through his mind.

Cerys disappeared into the house, but Loki followed the gentle hum of magic down one of the ornate halls, until he came upon her in one of the reading rooms—pacing back and forward in front of an empty fireplace. All the lamps were on, but they offered little light amidst the ceiling lights and snow-white walls—the overall brightness of the room hardly conducive to the storm within it.

Loki's lips thinned as he stepped further into the room slowly, toward Cerys. He watched and listened as she muttered words of disbelief to herself—struggling to contain the glossy wetness that spread over her widened eyes.

She staggered to a stop when she saw him, and held a hand up protestingly. "I_'m fine_," she choked out, and a loose tear fell down her cheek. "_I'm f—_" she breathed out in between shallow breaths, looking a bit dizzy. "_I'm fine._"

"You're not fine," he said, taking another step. He kept his voice steady, knowing that if she heard a hint of panic, she'd lose herself to it as well. "What's going on?"

"I'm fine," she growled as her eyes darted back and forth, while she resumed pacing. Anger slowly seeped into the panic, and she stopped beside the fireplace, gripping the mantle until her knuckles turned white. "This is…. I can't…. it's okay, I'm okay," Loki took another step, but Cerys threw out a hand. "I said I'm fine, I'm handling it, I'm—I'm _fine._"

When she turned and looked at him, her face was taut—a mask of ice and control—but tears were now streaming down left and right as she glared at him.

Loki tightened his hands into fists. He certainly wasn't unfamiliar with this, that hardness in her face—he understood the strength it took to harness it, and Cerys hadn't had any distance from the situation yet. It was happening right now, and it must've been taking everything to keep her composure.

"You can't sing," he murmured. "can you?"

Cerys' shallow breaths slowed into heavier ones as she stared at him.

And Loki immediately regretted saying it out loud—hearing it from another person seemed to cleave whatever barriers she'd thrown up against it. How could it have taken this long to discover the change? Barely a month had gone by since the serum had been administered—had she really gone so long without indulging the one thing that she enjoyed most? Had all the troubles left her _so_ void of the desire?

Cerys turned away, answering the question for him.

She didn't look back as he inched toward her around the couch. Instead, she stared at one of the fixtures on the mantlepiece—eyes positively hardened on the little birdlike figurine. Cerys didn't move, and barely breathed as he studied her from two feet away. She swallowed hard, while tears streamed down her cheeks—trembling with her strained control.

For the first time, Loki was at a loss for words. What could he possibly say to her? He knew not a thing about what was happening, nor did he have any solution to offer. Absolutely nothing. He felt useless.

Finally, he reached out, inching toward Cerys' hand on the mantlepiece. She didn't move—not when he gripped it tight and gently wrenched it off, and not when he stepped toward her again. Not even when he pulled her forward, and wrapped his arms over her shoulders tightly.

"It's alright," he murmured, feeling her control loosen as he melded against her. Her arms hung limply at her sides. "We'll figure it out, it'll be alright… Whatever we need to do, we'll do it."

Was there even anything that _could_ be done? He didn't know, and he couldn't have guessed. She sniffled quietly after a moment, raising her hands slowly and laying them against his backside. It was barely an embrace—so he would double his strength, for both of them.

Loki tangled a hand into her hair, pulling her in more closely. Wetness touched his neck, and without thinking, he turned and kissed the side of her forehead. "We'll find something," he murmured against her hair, which smelt of green apple, and closed his eyes. "It'll be alright…."

Everything around them was still for a time—the tinkling sounds of utensils and idle chatter finally broken by the subtle sound of footsteps. Loki opened his eyes slightly, turning his head toward the noise. Toward Pepper and Sheila, striding at an angle down the hallway where they could see him.

Sheila stopped abruptly, staring ahead into the room as she held an arm out—stopping Pepper in her tracks as well. The two of them stared for a moment, and Loki sifted his fingers possessively through her hair as he turned back, and kissed her a final time—anticipating them to enter the room.

She didn't stop him, and she didn't pull away—only calmed, just a bit, and the footsteps turned and walked back down the hallway. By the way her fingers twitched, Loki thought she might grip him tighter. But she didn't, and that was fine. This wasn't about him, anyway. He couldn't imagine her devastation, or what else could possibly happen. What could possibly be worse than this?

* * *

**"Damn... sure you wanna go for the jugular?" *long pause* "Yep, goin for the jugular..."**

**That was literally the convo I had with myself before writing this chapter. As if Cerys didn't have enough on her plate. I only 'stop' writing when I've got some serious shit going on in my life, sooo...**

**'And now [Cerys] can't drink Loki away.' Nailed it. Even champagne is too much-anything far from water is hard for her, now. That includes champagne, and certain wines. **

**Mini story time: I once got really sick while on a trip with my fam and boyfriend, could barely get out of bed. He took really good care of me, and my parents needed to leave early. My mom got crap for leaving me sick later on, and I overheard her saying on the phone, "I was fine with leaving because there was nothing left for me to do, he was doing everything for her." That was a personal life lesson that I channeled into the scene where Cerys' mom sees them. If someone loves you, they'll be there for you - you better be there for them too! (*wink foreshadowing wink*)**

**I'm working on shortening my AN's, lol. Sorry. I'm not thrilled with how this chapter turned out (I wrote this in pieces with a wicked headache the past few days), but I hope you guys liked it. ****I say this every week - thank you so much. Toreh, I saw how you reviewed God and the Siren Sunday morning, and then wrote another thoughtful review for Siren's Mark in the afternoon. You went through it all in a day, and that means so much to me. **

**If I could thank all of you individually, I would. And I plan to, when I'm done - all of you will get an individual, appreciative PM from me. Maybe I'm being extra, but I don't care. I'll explain in the end why I'm so extra about it. For now, just focus on the story! :) Til next time!**


	18. Chapter 18: Happy New Year!

**_#savejanerogers_**

**_Second or third longest chapter yet - don't die, my dear!_**

* * *

_Buzz buzz._

I hear the phone buzz again, lighting up the dim living room—along with the TV and Christmas tree lights.

No doubt it's either Pepper or my mom; one telling me more about the conversations she's had with her doctor friends about my 'predicament,' and the other tempting me to go out with them for New Year's Eve. Loki called me earlier too, but I didn't answer.

My mom means well, but we couldn't tell her anything about what was going on with me. She just knows that something was wrong with my voice.

And I have no intention on going out tonight, either. For once, I think it'd be a better idea to just stay at home and deal with this myself. Like a goddamn adult. No matter how much I wander aimlessly around the apartment, or how much toilet paper I buy just to sustain my newfound anti-anxiety tea drinking habit…

I stroll back from the kitchen and set my fifth cup down on the coffee table, trying to focus my brain on something other than how shitty I feel. Meanwhile, the same pile of unpacked boxes in the corner has been catching my eye again and again, and one more time as I plop down on the couch.

One in particular is the culprit, leaning against the rest…

Among the myriad of books and miscellaneous household items, is an electric keyboard still in its box, leaning against three larger ones behind it.

At this point, it's just depressing to look at. Five days of coming to terms with everything that happened hasn't been nearly enough. I'd bought the keyboard a long while ago, since the majority of my work with the academy turned dance-related, I was no longer using their pianos to train vocally anymore. It was time to bring that home, so I bought a newer, nicer keyboard and tossed the old one that I had.

I stare at it for a moment, from across the room.

How long has it even been since I used it? And what am I supposed to do with it now?

What happened on Christmas Eve felt like being gutted, like being stripped down to an empty shell… To have an affinity for something, for that something to become such an integral part of your entire life, and then have it taken away?

These past few days, it's been nothing but regret about how I took for granted all the time I had with it. How I let the stresses of everyday life pull me away from music—especially now, that I don't have the option to go back…

I stand, trying not to think too much about it, and wander over to the keyboard.

Honestly, it'll just keep haunting me if I don't take it out eventually…

Bits of tape fold over my fingers as I run them along the top of the box, before prying away the edge. The keyboard slides out slowly as I shift it to the side, leaving the box itself to topple over behind me, as I sit down on the ground with it. Power cable in hand, I roll backward to the nearest outlet and plug it in.

The buttons light up as I turn back, and stare down at the keys for a moment—feeling a lump rising in my throat. Slowly, I reach down and press one of the notes within the comfortable portion of my range, preparing myself to hum to it.

Until all the muscles in my body tighten with a rising sob instead, tugging and pulling down at my throat—begging me not to sing. Not to embarrass myself again.

After all, the…._sound_ that had come from me was humiliating. Like a second set of vocal cords, pulled left and right by a new set of muscles that weren't there before, and had never been used.

I wipe the newly shed tears away as I stand, and head back toward the kitchen to start boiling the kettle again.

I really have been peeing nonstop because of all the herbal teas. And while another cup's waiting for me on the coffee table, I know I'm going to need more…not that tea's going to fix any of this, but the idea of something helping has an effect on its own.

I know it won't help, though—not _really_. Nor will the butter pecan ice cream I find in the freezer shortly after…nor will the old, mostly-finished bottle of Grey Goose vodka that I'd bought months ago for a get together.

As much as I was a recreational drinker, I never opened it alone. And I'm not sure why I haven't thought to throw it out yet either, since it could kill me now if I tried.

The glass is cold and frosty as I pull it out of the fridge, eyeing it a bit longer than anticipated. Longer than necessary, really—thinking hard about how violently my body rejects it now. I stare until an abrupt bout of music from the TV snaps me out of it, and I set it down on the table—will throw it away later.

My phone lights up again as I come back around the couch, and pick it up.

_Thurs, 8:54 PM/Mom: _"_Come up with a plan of action to figure out what it is, and attack it." _

_Thurs, 8:57 PM/Mom: "Don't just stay home on NYE and miss work for no reason, you're an adult and that's not a mature way to deal with your problems." _

_Thurs, 9:32 PM/Pepper: "We wanted to go check out that new place downtown, they've got a really nice view and it'll be a party… let me know if you change your mind" _

_Thurs, 9:47 PM/Loki: "You've not answered your phone. I'm coming over there."_

_Thurs, 10:18 PM/Mom: "I just asked Patty if she's ever had a patient with something like that, and she said you could see a laryngologist, Cerys." _

_Thurs, 10:19 PM/Mom: "Let me know what you decide." _

…wait.

I scroll back up the list.

"_You've not answered your phone. I'm coming over there." _

My eyes widen as I note the time stamp—9:47 PM.

Almost thirty minutes ago.

I jump up from the couch in a twinge of panic, a little less enthusiastically than I may have under different circumstances, but barely get around to the little wall mirror before a knock comes at the door.

_Shit_…

_Why is he even here? _He didn't give a reason in his text, and I didn't have time to ask—probably just to check on me, right? Why the hell else would he come right to my door?

And if it is him, then he'll see me in this state… Hell, I didn't want _anyone_ to see me like this—that was the whole point of staying home.

I saunter toward the door, and light pours in from the hallway as I turn the knob and open it. Emerald eyes flash up to me from the ground, briefly darting back and forth over my face. Loki himself doesn't seem dressed for a fancy New Year's celebration…just a grey v-neck, dark jeans, and his leather jacket.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," I murmur, trying not to look too perturbed—though I doubt he'd be able to see much of it in the dark lighting of my apartment. Maybe from the hallway light? "What's up?"

Loki presses his lips together, eyes flickering over me concernedly. "Um—may I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure…" I step back—hardly considering the awful mess that'd culminated in my depressive state. "Sorry, it's kind of a mess in here…" I murmur as he walks past me, towering over me by at least a head.

"It's alright," he says, looking around my apartment for the first time. "It's rather quaint."

"Thanks," I mumble, keeping an eye on him as he looks down at the keyboard, tilting his head a bit.

"And it looks like you've kept busy…" he pauses. "Is that why you're not answering your phone?"

"No—and what're you doing here?" I ask a bit abruptly, stepping around him to pick up the keyboard, and set it off to the side.

"I hadn't heard from you, and Pepper mentioned you hadn't responded to her either." He turns and faces me in the middle of the living room, still scanning the space grimly—pausing at the vodka bottle still on the table. "So I came to see if you were alright, and…why do you have that?"

I shrug, biting my lower lip. "It's just an old bottle… I mean, obviously. Not like I can drink it anymore."

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "Right…is that all?"

"Yeah?"

Loki trails his eyes back up to mine—hands going back into his pockets. "So, you…you seem like you're doing alright, then."

I offer up a tiny grin, and nod. "Yeah, I'm okay…all things considered."

"You don't look like you're sleeping well," he says, stepping toward me—studying my face. "Or eating…you look gaunt, Cerys."

"It's only been five days, come on." I step back, walking over to the corner of the sofa and sitting by the armrest. "Can't look all that different…"

"Well you've managed to do it," he says, footsteps carrying him to the side of the couch.

Not knowing what to say to that, I shrug, turning my head toward the TV instead. Loki lets out a steady breath and turns his gaze about the apartment, studying everything with an intense look of concentration. I look over at him as he saunters over to the only bookshelf I own—only half full from all the boxes I haven't unpacked yet.

He lays a hand on one of the top shelves and slides it across the smooth wood, as though checking for dust, before averting his gaze to the pile of boxes in the corner—where the keyboard is now leaning against its own box.

He nods toward it, "Now there's an interesting development."

"What?" I watch as he walks toward it. "What do you mean?"

"You took this out of its box," he murmurs as he lifts it up effortlessly. "Must mean something."

I shake my head sullenly. "Not really."

Loki strolls toward me with the keyboard in his hands, and leans it against the couch—leaving it there as he steps over my legs carefully, and sinks onto the cushion beside me.

"Well have you tried, since then?" he asks a bit more solemnly, while the light of the television pours over the side of his face. "To sing, I mean."

"Yeah." His emerald eyes narrow a bit as he studies me, and I look away. "I did, for a few seconds…didn't end well."

"Tell me."

I nearly flinch as fingers suddenly graze my jaw. I glance over at him, and Loki's eyes widen minutely at my reaction—and he pulls back his hand.

"There's nothing to tell," I say, shaking my head—trying to control the simultaneous flush to my cheeks, and lump in my throat. Michael's face suddenly flashes in my mind for a moment, and the lump grows.

"Yes, there is," Loki says, eyes jumping to the keyboard. "Though if you don't want to talk, you can show me what you've tried…"

"What?" I furrow a brow, looking back at it—realizing the implication. "No."

"…why not?"

"I just don't want to," I mumble, feeling the lump lodging itself more tightly in my throat.

"Cerys, there's nothing to be embarrassed of-"

"There's nothing to show, Loki," I choke out, and then clear my throat. "It's not singing anymore. I tried, but…you heard what it sounds like. I just can't, now."

"And why can't you?" he leans forward. "This isn't better than trying nothing at all."

"I'm just tired," A loose tear falls down my cheek, but my voice stays steady—thankfully. "I don't even understand what my life's turned into—there's just nothing normal about it anymore. One thing after another, and I feel frustrated and guilty for dragging everyone else into it…"

"You're not dragging anyone into anything," he answers sternly. "We're here—I'm here, by my own free will. You couldn't force me to do anything I didn't want to do—don't you know me well enough by now?"

Warmth swells up a bit in my chest, and I cast my eyes down to my knees and shrug. "Sure, I guess, but—"

"You still haven't told me what's different," he interjects—with just enough conviction.

I look up at him. "Different about what?"

"Well apart from the obvious—you're speaking to me normally. I don't understand why you can't sing."

"Yeah," I bob my head. "You're not supposed to use your throat when you sing, same vocal cords, but you're using a different muscle group."

"Alright," he nods, voice growing more intent as he listens. Features tightening with concentration. "Go on."

"So when I sing now, it feels like the sound is coming from deeper down, and just…spasming in my chest."

"Can you learn to control it?"

I swallow thickly. "It took _years _to learn to sing the first time, Loki. It takes a huge amount of control and practice."

"So what?" he furrows a brow. "You say that like you don't have years ahead to learn it again."

"I sang _normally_ in the beginning, not like this," my voice breaks a bit. Tears brim up in my eyes again, while I reach down for my tea. "Who knows how long it would take, even if I could do it."

Loki pauses for a moment, looking over me as resolve spreads over his features. "Cerys," his voice grows low as I sip the tea, barely able to swallow it with the tightness in my throat. "By saying these things, you're digging yourself more into a hole than you're actually in. Understand and accept that these are the cards you've been dealt. These are your circumstances. Feeling sorry about it won't accomplish anything."

"I know that," I retort. "Aren't I allowed to just feel crappy about it a bit?"

"You've had time to do that already."

"Well, what if I need a little more time!?"

"Then take it," he says, suddenly reaching out and grabbing the tea out of my hands, and setting it down on the table. "But the circumstances have changed—if you want to survive what's happened to you, you've got to change with them."

I freeze, eyes widening.

I'd replayed those words again and again in my head the last time he said them to me. At the airport, the day he left for Norway. His eye color looks brighter under the TV light, and his features still as he holds my gaze.

"Turn on the lights," he suddenly demands, turning and grabbing the remote off the table.

"Wait, what? W-why?"

"Just do it," he says, lowering the volume before leaning over, and pulling the keyboard up over the couch. I watch for a moment as he gently sets it down on the table, and removes his jacket. With the new freedom of motion, he slowly feels around for the power cord. "I said turn on the lights," he orders again.

With a furrowed brow, I stand and saunter slowly back over to the kitchen, turning on the dimmest light. It pours over Loki's tall backside as he stands, stretching to his full height as he shuffles over to the wall. The shirt hugs his shoulders tightly, each movement rippling as he bends behind the couch and plugs it in.

"Alright," he says, standing and facing me from the other side of the coffee table, and gestures to the keyboard. "Show me, now."

"Show you what?"

"Show me what you can and can't do," he says, glancing down at it.

I swallow thickly before shaking my head. "I can't, Loki."

"Yes you can," he says. "You've got two lungs and a heartbeat—so you _can_ do what I ask."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Good thing this isn't about my qualifications, then," he says, lowering himself down on the couch. "It's about getting you to act—now," he turns unceremoniously, and looks over the keys, brow flickering confusedly before tapping his finger down on one of the notes. "Sing that for me."

Tightness spreads through my torso again, reaching up into my throat. I shake my head as it grips it tightly. "I can't."

"Yes you can," he looks down at the keyboard, raising a large hand to it once more. His fingers dance along the keys slowly for a moment, and then he presses the same note again. "Try," he says, reaching up to brush bits of dust off the rest of the buttons, without looking at me. "Look, I'm hardly paying attention."

Embarrassment flushes through me, horrified by the idea of the sound that would come out of me. "I don't want to…" my voice trembles.

"Why not?"

"Because, it's—it's embarrassing."

Loki stops mid-movement, parting his lips reluctantly. "Cerys," he looks up at me and mutters. "You don't need to be embarrassed in front of me. There's nothing about this to feel ashamed of."

"I'm ashamed of the sound I'm going to make, Loki," I insist. "You saw how those people looked at me at the party, like I was disgusting or something…"

He rolls his eyes annoyedly. "And among those people, I'd heard you sing long before any of them had, before any of this happened. And your voice is assuredly the most beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life," he answers quickly, tautly. "Matching the fact that you are the most beautiful being I've ever beheld—and I've seen many in my time."

A weight suddenly drops—like a brick falling straight through my body—all the way down to my feet. The lump in my throat dissipates, and I stare at him quietly for a moment.

He looks up at me, without a hint of a grin or anything else ghosting his lips. "You can't tarnish my opinion of you."

I press my lips together in a weak smile, feeling my cheeks flush with heat. By the way that Loki's eyes flicker down to them, I'd wager he notices too—though he doesn't say anything as he looks back down at the keyboard, and touches the note again.

"Sing," he orders.

I swallow hard, feeling the tightness return. Even as he looks back down, fixing his gaze on my tea. The anxiety doesn't abate, even as I steady myself and draw a breath in. Everything inside me claws at my throat, and the weak sound that escapes is already abhorrent. I throw my hands up to my mouth, all the warmth being forced out by embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Loki maintains his expressionless stare at my cup of tea, and nods again as he presses the note. "Try again."

Tears brim my eyes. "I can't…"

"Yes, you can," he says, a bit more softly. "Try again."

With another breath, the same sound comes out again. My face contorts angrily.

"Are you doing everything correctly?" he asks, nodding toward my torso.

"Huh?"

"The breathing—whatever it is you do, are you doing it right?"

"Um," I blink, and a couple more tears fall. "I—I don't know," I strain a moment, focusing my mind on everything I'd learned. The breathing techniques, the form… Hunched over the way that I am, taking shallow breathes—no, I'm absolutely _not_ doing it right. "I guess not?"

"Then do whatever it is you have to do, and try again."

I exhale heavily, keeping my eyes on him as I nod sharply to myself. Straightening up, pulling my shoulders back, and breathing in with my diaphragm. Loki touches the note again, and I follow suit. One quick sound.

A grin touches his lips, and he blinks up at me. "See? That time was a bit better."

I furrow a brow at him. "Was it?"

"It was."

The corner of my mouth pulls back into a little bit of a smile. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nods. "You're well trained, and when you remembered that, it made a difference—in fact, I think this may take even less time than you anticipated. Didn't you hear it, yourself?"

"I don't know, I mean…yeah, I don't know."

Loki eyes me for a moment. "Well that's alright," he says, looking down at the keys again. "A few more tries, and you'll be on your way—try again."

I nod, feeling a bit more confident—a bit more relaxed.

And after a few more tries, Loki turns out to be right—I do start hearing the difference. Just the tiniest bit, like taking a few different muscles and tugging them together the slightest way. It's negligible, considering the vast amount of disorientation and lack of coherency still sounding from me.

Still, it's something…

"Can't believe you doubted yourself," Loki says, donning a bit more enthusiasm for my sake, as he looks up at me with a glimmer of pride. "And what did I tell you? To think it's not even midnight—"

"Oh my god, midnight!" my eyes suddenly widen, life beating through my voice and features. "Oh shit I forgot, it's almost the new year!"

Loki smiles broadly, likely at my display of enthusiasm, and reaches up—as though to pull me back down to the couch. "Well come and sit, then—we'll greet the new year together."

And I hold up a finger instead—glancing at the kitchen. "One sec," I say, and saunter around the couch to turn off the lights again—leaving us back in the ambiance of the Christmas lights, and the television. "Gimme the remote," I order when I come back to the table, and Loki reaches over and hands it to me.

Turning the volume back up slightly, I switch the channel to the news—to the countdown in Times Square.

Still a few minutes away, so all they're showing is the bunches and bunches of crowds waving flags around spastically through the air.

Loki shifts a bit as I lower myself down on the couch. For a few moments, we sit in silence watching the program. Me leaning back against the armrest, and Loki with his arms crossed relaxedly.

I look away from it for a moment to observe his profile. For a quick second, I could swear his eyes darted to the side a bit—back toward me—but he doesn't say anything. Not even as a bright, red flash catches my attention from the program.

I look over, squinting my eyes at the TV. "Wait, is that—is that _Tony?" _

Loki nods, snorting at the image of Iron Man descending down onto one of the platforms. "Yes, looks like it… We could've been there with them, you know."

I smile, keeping my eyes on the TV. "Yeah, you would've hated it."

"Please," he murmurs wryly. "I can be fun, you know."

"Yeah, I've heard—_God of Mischief." _

A smile spreads over his profile. "_That's right,_" he says, his voice suddenly dropping low.

Redness flushes to my cheeks, but I nod to the TV without acknowledging it. "Remember the last time we spent New Years' Eve all together?"

"Of course I do," he murmurs, glancing back at me—knitting his brows together slightly in an expression of remembrance. "I especially remember a certain dance partner of yours."

"The French guy?"

"Yes—quite the charmer, wasn't he?"

I smirk. "Jealous, much?"

"Obviously_." _

I look back over at him sharply, my cheeks filling with color as the countdown begins. His lips quirk upward in a smile—as though he sees me looking out of the corner of his eye—but he keeps his gaze fixed on the screen.

"_10…9…8…7…6…." _the crowd chants. "_5…4…3…2…1!" _

Lights flash across the television screen, filling the room with a kaleidoscope of color. Excitement brims in the crowd's faces, while I look over at Loki—still sitting cozily beside me on the couch.

I pull my knees up to my chest, and Loki turns toward the movement, trailing his eyes up to me.

People are supposed to kiss at midnight, but… yeah no, that's not going to happen. I'd wager to guess that Loki's got the same thought running through his head though, as he stares across the way at me for a few moments.

Finally grinning, he says, "Happy New Year, Cerys."

Kiss or no kiss, the fact that I have someone to say that to right now is pretty great—considering how I _planned_ to spend the night. Curled up alone on the couch, watching some movie to take my mind off things, and sinking into sleep like I have done every night this past week.

I smile, my chest filling with gratitude. For all that he could've been _there,_ he still chose to be here, despite knowing what a pathetic mess I've been. He couldn't have know if he could change the course of the night, but he tried, and he did.

Not that all the problems are gone, but… now at least it feels like there's a road out of this situation.

I reach out and take his hand, wrapping my fingers around his coarse hands, and press his knuckles to my lips with a thankful kiss. "Happy New Year, Loki." I pause for a moment, watching as his grin falters noticeably—eyes flickering downward. "And…thank you for coming here. For being here."

"'Course," Loki breathes out, eyes narrowing intently. "Nowhere else I'd rather be," he says in a low voice, without moving—without so much as a smile.

Green eyes. Beautiful green eyes peer back at me through the darkness—looking just as unsure of what to do with himself, as I am. Only certain thing is that I have to remind myself to keep breathing.

"So, um…" I loosen my grip on his hand, but he doesn't pull it away. "I mean, midnight's over I guess, so… what should we do now?"

Loki blinks, shaking his head slightly. "Whatever you want."

"Um, we can, just…" I pause, finally looking down at the remote—head nearly spinning as I lean toward it and nod. "…Movie."

Loki bobs his head subtly too—eyes glazed over a bit. I swallow hard as I switch over to my HBO subscription—my brain cells struggling to spark coherent thoughts as I navigate over to the comedy section, choosing the first familiar thing that my eyes fall upon. The movie "He's Just Not That Into You." I sink back against the armrest, letting the minute bit of cold air movement pull me back to my senses.

"Have you seen this?" I look over at him, and Loki blinks—shaking his head a bit, as though snapping out of a quick thought.

"No, I haven't."

"Okay, well, it's a classic," I hit the 'play' button. "So you're gonna watch it tonight."

Loki presses his lips together in a strained smile. "I did say, whatever you want…" he says, a bit more amusedly than before.

I sink a bit into the couch, careful not to let my legs press against him. But when I shift a couple more times, Loki looks back over at me. "Do you want me to move?"

"No, no," I shake my head. "Sorry."

"You look a bit uncomfortable."

"I'm okay," I offer a small grin. "It's fine."

"'Fine,' isn't comfortable, but…" his voice trails off a bit as he locks his stare on me—as though weighing his next words carefully. "Perhaps," he pauses. "I can make a suggestion."

"What is it?"

He presses his lips together, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "Well, you might not like it."

I grin a bit. "Tell me, and we'll find out."

Loki looks around the room for a moment, pausing on a blanket folded on one of the other couches.

He stands and strides over to it, picking it up and unfurling it. For a moment, he stops and stares down at it—again looking like he's weighing his options—but then holds it up with one hand, walking over to the other side of the coffee table. Standing just there, he displays it to me through the darkness—with the dim, ambient lighting falling over his form.

"With no expectations," he says. "We can both lay extended on the couch."

_Michael._ My heart sinks a bit. "You…want to lay down with me?"

"With hands in appropriate places, and no expectations."

I stare for a moment, and then smirk. "You're sure you can do that?"

He pauses, a hint of a smile haunting his features. "If you want me to be."

I'm sure that's true…mostly.

Well, it's not like I'm about to kick him out… So I nod to the space behind me. "Okay, sure."

Without the smallest expression of enthusiasm, Loki lowers the blanket, letting it drag behind him as he saunters around the table. Carefully, he throws a knee into the space behind me, and crawls up against the backside of the couch. His heat washes over me immediately, growing even hotter as he throws the blanket over the both of us. I sink down a bit against the pillow, while Loki remains propped up on his elbow above me—slowly and carefully draping an arm over my waist. I rest my arm on it comfortably, careful not to brush my fingers against it.

Guilt and temptation launch a wrestling match over the steering wheel. It's been over a month now since Michael and I broke up…but he's somewhere out there, and I'm here. For all I know, he could be sleeping with someone right now.

Roughly halfway through the movie, I start drifting off to sleep. A quick glance up at Loki tells me that he's actually fallen asleep already, head resting against the armrest. And judging by the blank peacefulness etched across his face, I'd say he's been out for a while… looking the same way he did on our plane flight to Switzerland, which was the last time I forced him to sit through a movie like this.

I, however, have no chance at sleeping comfortably at this angle.

Since I'm still propped up about forty-five degrees, I slide downward even more, pulling him with me to adjust the pillow.

Might as well accept that we'll be 'sleeping together' tonight, after all. PG version, at least. And not that it'd ever be Michael's business to find out about this, but it's not like this is just some quick, sexual heist. Not by the way my heart is pounding against my chest, freaking out from the closeness. The sense of security, the care…

He _loves _me.

Loki's eyes drift open slightly, and he looks down heavily for a moment as he slides further down the couch beside me. I shift slightly, pulling the blanket just under my shoulder—over halfway up Loki's torso, since he's a smidge higher than me.

I'm close enough now to feel his chest rise and fall with sleep. But instead of racing, my heart calms to a steady, comfortable beat beside him.

Just as I finally settle in comfortably, preparing to close my eyes, a large hand suddenly sprawls unceremoniously over my cheek—turning my face toward him against the pillow. All in a quick, half-asleep movement, Loki slides across the pillow—slating his soft lips over mine in a gentle, chaste kiss, his fingers curling over my jaw as they relax. All thoughts of everything and everyone else goes out the window as I shut my eyes, memorizing the soft movements until they part with a quiet, smacking sound.

"_Fuck,_" I breathe out as I open my eyes again, and Loki's own sleepy eyes widen slightly.

"_I'm sorry,_" he murmurs.

No, I'm the one who should be sorry—sorry for everything.

"No, it's okay," I whisper back.

Loki's eyes dart between mine for a moment, and he pushes toward me again—stopped by my fingers against his lips.

As much as I want to…

_God,_ as much as I _really_ want to…

"I—I need to think…"

"What's there to think about?" Loki mumbles quietly, his breath brushing through my fingers as I curl them against his chin.

I shake my head. I'm not ready for this—not now. I can't do this if there's even a smidgen of guilt left over from everything. I need to talk this out, need to reason out why I feel the way I do, instead of acting impulsively. Clearly ignoring this isn't going to work anymore… but that doesn't mean I should dive head-first.

"I just—I need some time."

His lip quirks upward kindly. "Alright. I can wait." He trails his eyes over to the TV. "Your film is still playing."

"Yeah," I whisper. "It's okay, I can sleep with it on."

His arm tightens as he looks back at me, eyes nearly shut. "Then sleep, my love," he breathes out, settling against the pillow.

_…__.fuck. _

If something could actually snap inside me, it probably would've just now. And I can't help it, I just can't help myself—I lift my head up slightly and press my lips against his again for a moment, letting him reach up and move a few of the curls out of my face. I pull away, avoiding the eye contact that would surely cripple me, and lick my lips as I turn over to shimmy back down onto the couch—melding against him and the pillow comfortably.

Filled with a different type of heaviness than I'd started the evening with, I sink into the softness of the couch. Further and further into sleep, with an arm draped over my side, and Loki's steady breath fanning my shoulder.

* * *

**Man, I am tired. These types of chapters are _so_ hard to write, and this one was extra long. And my headache has still been off and on, so I'm sorry if this didn't turn out super great. **

**So one of you guessed the 'singing lessons' bit - it was pretty close! Very clever of you to catch that SoS, I was honestly impressed! Housebabe, I also loved that you pointed out that he gave no thought in going after Cerys in the last chapter. "The heart is a stubborn little brat that wants what it wants" is a key theme in this story, so I'm glad you picked up on that bit!**

**So clearly Cerys is losing her emotional shit, but she's trying so hard to be responsible. The night was too much of a rollercoaster to make any decisions. Obviously she had to break a little when Loki called her "my love," though, and I had the image of him doing it half-asleep because sleepy-affectionate guys are adorable. Like their very first instinct upon waking up is to be affectionate to the woman next to them... So I wanted that to happen! **

**We're getting closer and closer to a few, big things in the story. This chapter was the first pivotal part of Cerys' recovery, and she's going to get stronger from here. ****So I'll leave you all with a little Easter Egg... Something Loki said in this chapter: "****You couldn't force me to do anything I didn't want to do-don't you know me well enough by now?"**** VAT DOES IT MEAAAAN! Read on to find out, and please let me know what you think along the way!**

**Til next time. ;) **


	19. Chapter 19: Names and faces

Of all the ways that Loki imagined the night would go, this was hardly one of them. Despite his unfortunate positioning on Cerys' couch, having his body draped over hers was strangely relaxing, and he slept well.

The television was still playing softly in the background when he woke, and the sky outside was dark. A storm had begun at some point during the night, and the patter of rain against the spanning window was what woke him. Everything inside the apartment was still, save for the flickering lights, and Cerys' heavy breaths waxing and waning against his front side. Loki relaxed back against the pillow, still hovering in and out of sleep.

Mere hours ago, Cerys had practically thrown herself at him—something he hadn't dreamed would happen for some time, least of all on a night like this. And almost immediately after, she didn't want to be touched—though naturally, her actions did _nothing_ to make that easier. The sudden appearance of her lips took him utterly by surprise, and he sighed heavily when she crawled on top of him. His hand moved of its own accord to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. All the while, he accepted her eager kiss, and relished the arousal rolling hotly through his limbs.

So there she was, and suddenly gone again—rolling back over to her side. Breaking the illusion right then and there, that she would have her way with him…just as she did the first night they were together.

Cerys stretched her limbs out gently in front of him, snapping Loki's attention back from his distanced thoughts. He blinked down as her eyelashes fluttered open, and she turned toward him.

Loki merely stared back at her. And for a brief moment, she almost looked surprised to see him in her dazed, half-sleeping state.

"_Loki…?_" she breathed out.

"_Yes?_" he whispered back.

She stared at him through lidded eyes, her face settled into an expression of rest and relaxation—more so than he'd seen in quite some time. Like she'd just slept through the longest and sweetest night of her life.

Cerys' lips quirked upward. "…_good night,_" she murmured sweetly, shifting closer against him as she turned her back to him again.

It took a moment for Loki to realize that the movement had hitched her shirt beneath the blanket, and bare skin pressed against his forearm when he draped it over her waist. Slowly, he reached up and tugged down on the edge of the shirt, fingers brushing against her skin as he tried to pull it downward. An impulse struck when he reached the rim of her pants, and he rolled his eyes up to the back of her head.

"Cerys," Loki whispered, pulling closer as he let his hand drop down to her stomach, hovering just above the edge. "_Cerys,_" he repeated when she moved slightly, nudging the hair away from her neck.

Her eyes barely opened when a hand immediately clamped over his—stopping his fingers brushing at the base of her abdomen, and sprawling across her smooth stomach. Her eyes opened slightly, looking a bit uncertain. And that was fine—Loki gripped her fingers, and pulled her tightly against him with their knotted hands, kissing her earnestly just below her ear. She didn't react at first, nor did she push him away, so he did it again. The second time, her head tilted backward slightly, extending her neck a bit, and the gentle sigh when he kissed her was like silk, so he kissed her again.

And again.

Her hand began to loosen, and she finally let go—tangling it through his hair, and pulling him closer against her. Each breath grew a little heavier as bumps rolled over her skin, and Loki barely gave thought to anything other than the sounds she made to his touch, and slipped his hand beneath the loose sweatpants she'd been wearing.

He paused momentarily—allowing time for a refusal, but none came.

Onward, then.

Her soft breath deepened as Loki slid his fingers through her arousal. She arched against him slightly, and her head tilted fully back against his shoulder as he shifted them both, coaxing her pleasurably, further and further out of sleep. Cerys bit back a moan, clenching around him as he slipped two fingers inside, but he didn't want her to—he wanted to hear her, and doubled his effort until there was nothing better—nothing sweeter—than the crisp sounds of her gentle gasps and moans. Loki's hot breath spilled over her as his kisses grew more desperate against her neck, and his desire rose to critical levels with every sound she made against his ear.

"_Loki,_" she suddenly breathed out. "_I want t-to…" _

Everything screeched to a stop—all the movement ceased as Loki pulled his lips from her neck with a sharp stutter, "W-what?"

Cerys turned and kissed him over her shoulder, while her hand fell back to what little space was created between them by the movement. By the way her hand fumbled over his belt behind her back, she couldn't have anticipated getting it undone—it was an indicator. Loki pulled back to finish the job, and Cerys seemed to have no trouble slipping off her pants in the meantime.

With heat pounding through him, there wasn't a chance in Hel that he was prepared to remind her of her earlier objections. Loki shifted slightly against her—positioning one hand on her hip while the other threaded through her fingers above their heads. He grasped them tightly as he positioned himself behind her, and filled her with a single, sharp thrust that melded them together perfectly. Cerys gasped at the abruptness, while Loki groaned against her hair—relishing the tingles of pleasure that exploded from where they were joined.

In all the time they'd spent apart, he'd almost forgotten just how good she felt—or maybe it was the heated release of love and desire that had been burning a hole in his chest. Nothing and no one outside the room mattered. He would have her each and every day as she was, weaknesses and all, and die a contented man.

Loki ran his hand along her curves, and creased his brows intently as he pulled her closer—leaving just enough room for him to slide in and out slowly. Warmth bloomed between them as she tilted her head back to meet his lips, while weaving her free hand through his hair. It had grown quite hot beneath the blanket, and Loki could've sworn his vision turned red.

His hand traveled back down to finish what he started, and it took minutes for Cerys to tense up, and come undone in his arms. Moments more, and the growing tightness in his abdomen snapped loose, sending waves of pleasure through him. Loki shut his eyes, and pressed his lips against hers—and remained unmoving, as ecstasy cascaded through him.

The television had continued playing in the background, though all the sounds of the storm outside had ceased. After pulling away, they lay there quietly, panting lightly for some time—even though neither of them had physically exerted themselves. Their bodies exerted in other ways, and needed to calm for other reasons.

Cerys finally withdrew herself slowly from the couch, and Loki had a moment to appreciate her brilliant silhouette, before she bent down to retrieve her pants. He caught a glance of the upward quirk of her lips, but it didn't quite reach her eyes entirely. He trailed after her with his eyes as she teetered off to the restroom, and returned some time later—quite a bit later than it had taken her in the past.

"Are you alright?" he muttered as she trudged around the couch, and sat down slowly.

She glanced at him, and turned away as she creased a brow earnestly. "Yeah—yeah, I'm…fine."

"Are you sure?"

Cerys sighed, and looked up at the television. "Yeah."

Loki narrowed his eyes, and reached up to pull back some of the hair over her shoulder. "Cerys," he said in a low voice. "Look at me." She turned slowly—clearly hesitant to meet his gaze. Guilt was etched across her expression, and Loki creased his brows earnestly. "You've done nothing wrong here."

Despite her best effort to hide it, hints of contentment steeped in the depths of her saddened expression, and she grinned. "Maybe," she said with a shrug.

"Not maybe," Loki muttered, pulling her toward him. "This is certain."

Cerys fell easily—facing him this time—and wrapped around him tightly. In this new arrangement, she barely took half the space she'd occupied before, and her breath fanned his neck as he held her tightly. Though it took some time for her to relax, sleep was an unlikely prospect for Loki tonight, and he leaned back against the television as she rested against him.

* * *

I've had sore throats before, but never like this. It came on suddenly this morning, and not even scalding tea and extra strength medicine has managed to assuage it. I went to work anyway, having used up too many of my sick days for comfort, but it only gets worse as the hours go by. Now it's half past noon, and I can barely talk without throwing myself into a world of pain.

Little by little, every inch of my body has been descending into the worst fatigue I've ever experienced. So instead of chowing down painfully on my sandwich, I whip out my phone instead to send a text:

_Fri, 12:37 PM/Cerys: "Whatever this is, it's hitting me pretty hard… I'll probably go home early, but I definitely am not up for tonight" _

Moments later, my phone buzzes again.

_Fri, 12:43 PM/Loki: "I'd still like to see you. I'll bring something with me to help." _

I sighed. Almost two weeks have gone by that Loki has been coming over to practice with me. Mostly, he just hits notes here and there, and the majority of the 'practice' has been coming from me, since I actually know what I'm doing. Granted, he did go out of his way to use his tablet and computer at home to study the notes for a few simple songs… Got to hand it to him for his effort.

Sex was probably somewhat of a decent motivator for that. As much as I hate to admit it, every night that I've seen Loki has ended the same way. I never actively plan for it, but when the matter does come down to it, I just can't bring myself to stop. Each and every time. And when it's over, I can't stop thinking about it. Going to work hasn't been made easier by this either, since I still see Michael almost every single day.

Granted, we're really good at avoiding each other. Really, _really_ good at being in the same room together, without acknowledging each other's existence. The actual work helps keep the gnawing guilt at bay every now and again, and so do my _actual_ feelings for Loki—serving as a reminder to me every time that Michael appears in my periphery, that this isn't just a thoughtless fling. It's not a distraction, or a rebound.

He makes me feel good, and I obviously care about him a lot. At the end of the day, maybe the lack of closure is what did me in. Maybe deep down, I never stopped loving him the way I did—though I'm a lot less keen on exploring that possibility, because _that_ would be unfair to everything I had with Michael. I refuse to entertain that notion—better to leave that bit an unsolved mystery forever.

And of all the times that my brain would be physically capable of handling unsolved mysterious, now is decidedly not one of them. Hell, I really couldn't think about it now if I wanted to…not with this headache splitting my brain in half. Even my frustrated sigh comes out with a twinge of pain, and I stuff the sandwich back the bag and stand to head down the hallway—to James' office. He'll be in there for lunch, probably with some of the others too.

As I saunter tiredly toward his door, naturally I expect Tom and Janice to be in there with him—his usual cohort—but not Michael.

I shuffle to an immediate stop in the doorway as soon as I see him, but quickly avert my attention back to James as he greets me. "Hey Cerys." He looks me up and down concernedly. "How you feeling, kiddo?"

"Not great." I shake my head, pointedly avoiding the way that Michael's eyes snap up toward the sound of my coarse voice. "I think I've got a fever now too."

"Oh," James cringes. "Okay, well maybe you ought to go home?"

"Yeah, I think I should—I think Rachel knows the routine pretty well, she can take over for me today."

"Sure, I'll let her know," he nods. "Get going."

"Thanks," I nod—immediately stepping back into the hallway.

Awkward… Aside from Michael, I'll never quite say that I enjoy working with James, though it seems like every facet of his personality has toned down over the years. It's been surprisingly tolerable to share a position of authority with him at the Academy. I just wish things went a little more smoothly with Michael around, but oh well.

C'est la vie.

* * *

Stark's car awaited Loki outside, while he strode up and down the aisle of some local supermarket. Cerys had apparently fallen ill—which held a number of implications on how the night could and couldn't go. Naturally, the likelihood of one of their dalliances was low, but that would be alright by him. Loki was content with the idea of simply spending the evening alone with Cerys in her apartment, even if she were incapacitated through the night.

He stood before the massive assortment of teas, brows knitted together for the one he was searching for—Pepper had mentioned something about coating for the throat?

Loki scanned halfway through the section of green teas, when a flash of raven hair quickly brushed by him, bumping into him rather abruptly. He immediately turned to glare at the offender—were they blind, to have collided so heavily into him?

"Oops," the woman muttered, glancing back at him with a grin. "_Sorry._"

Loki glared over his shoulder at her, lips pursed irritably at the subtle leer in her tone. Some sort of flirtatious greeting, then. Despite his disdainful stare, her grin only broadened a bit as she looked him over, scanning his length with striking green eyes before strutting away—hips swaying left and right beneath her black suit. He furrowed a brow at the woman, and then continued on looking for that damned tea—finally finding it in one of the middle rows.

Loki didn't see the woman again as he sauntered back to the front, and checked out his items. The biting night air opened up before him as he strode out of the store, and the car was just a few paces away. Loki'd forgotten about the encounter by the time hopped into the back seat—though the door immediately locked behind him. He glanced down at it, suddenly realizing that something was off—and that there was another passenger in the front seat.

The driver immediately kicked the car into reverse, and Loki gripped the the door handle to stay upright—which was evidently locked beyond his control.

"Hi there," the passenger turned, and Loki immediately recognized the flash of glowing green amidst the darkness—the woman from the store. "Good to see you again, _sweetheart_."

"_Nisha,_" he growled—keeping an amused tone, like the situation was more amusement than concerning. "Can't say the same, I'm afraid."

Nisha's jaw dropped. "Oh, you remembered my name!" she crooned. "Flattering."

"Not really."

"Don't be like that," she shook her head coyly, and the faltering calm in Loki's expression wavered each time the car took a sharp turn. "You and I should be friends," she gave him an unnerving grin. "—the _best_ of friends."

Loki grimaced a bit at her tone. "Yes, well," he muttered. "Hard to be friends with someone whose eyes I'd rather gauge."

A blade materialized in his hands, but Nisha merely smiled as the vehicle took another sharp turn, and skidded to a stop. Loki didn't recognize the remote location, but before he could lunge at her, Nisha raised a gun and shot him from the front seat. With precise aim, it seemed—judging by the sharp pain in his wrist, which flew backward with the dagger. Loki's eyes dropped down to the sudden heat enveloping his skin, while a black, glowing fluid trailed through his veins from the wound.

The driver turned, and Loki glanced up, recognizing her as Yuriko—the woman that Cerys had been spying on, when she was still involved with A.I.M. "You sure we needed to use that?" she turned to Nisha. "That was our only dose."

Nisha's grin tapered a bit. "I tried it my way. It didn't work on him…but this will."

"You sure about that?"

Their voices began to fade as Loki's head pounded furiously—he could neither understand what was being said, nor recall what was uttered moments after. Everything began to fade from his memory—whatever inner calmness he'd woken with that day, replaced by heat and rage that tore through his muscles painfully. It flooded his limbs, taking everything in its path—leaving only the animosity that once broke him. Every part of him was slipping to the blackness, bit by bit.

"We'll wait until it's done with his system, and we'll play on what's left of his memories," Nisha murmured, turning toward Yuriko. "Trust me—he did it once, he'll do it again. This time, he'll do it for us."

* * *

**K GUYS. So that hint that I gave in the last chapter? This is it. Question is, how far will it go? What will our beloved AU 'evil Loki' WANT and NOT WANT to do? Is whatever they gave him really so powerful, that even Cerys won't be able to reach him? We'll find out...and maybe their latest development will have something to do with what's to come - obviously Cerys certainly wasn't planning on sleeping with him, but b****eing seduced can be a quiet, intimate, emotional process, and she was not about to be impervious to it with someone she's in love with. **

**Let me know what you're thinking of all this, or let me know if you're excited! :D And thank you so much for all your support. At first I was going to name the chapter "throat coat" to give you guys a clue at the start of what would happen, because of that one store bought echinacea 'throat coat' tea for sore throats... but instead I laughed, cringed, texted my BFF who's responsible for corrupting my brain, and decided against it lol. Til next time! **


	20. Chapter 20: Mark me up

I've never been this sick in my life. I had stopped by a doctor's office to get checked out, only to be sent home with a cold. A _cold_ of all things—causing the feverish symptoms that've had me laying motionlessly on the couch for twenty four hours, without responding to any medicine? Unlikely. There may be a virus in my body, but I'd wager that my condition is resultant of something that starts with "s" and loosely rhymes with "eardrum."

Though even that's not the biggest cause to the damper in my mood.

It's been a full day now, since Loki was supposed to come over, and never showed. Never answered any texts, either. And when I called Pepper to complain (and possibly ask her to go down the hall and kick his ass for me), she mentioned not having seen him since Tony and Thor went out of town. So, there was a distinct likelihood that they all went together—until Tony confirmed that he wasn't with them. She then mentioned that one of their cars had been taken out for the night, and later returned without him in hit.

If he really did go out of town somewhere and bail on me, he'll sure as hell get a swift kick in the balls if he comes back without a good excuse…maybe after an equally petty round of silent treatment for a day. The likelihood that something happened to him had to be so much lower—he is a god, after all. What could possibly happen to him?

Not the most comforting thought, but…it's only been a day.

Despite all that, I still can only expend a fraction of my sickly energy worrying. And when my phone rings on the coffee table, it takes everything I've got to trudge off the couch, just to grab it. Almost certain that Loki's name will pop up, my shoulders slump when I glance at the screen, and see Pepper's name before sliding to answer the call.

"Hey," I murmur, painfully choking out the sound.

"Cerys," she says sternly, without addressing my clear malaise. "You need to come to Stark tower _now_."

"What?" I cough. "Why?"

"I'm sending a car, get dressed and get in it when it's there."

"O-Okay? What's going on?"

"Loki," she says, and I freeze up. "You know how he hasn't been answering you? Well, it's 'cause he's gone off the frickin' rail_._"

My eyes widen as I straighten up. "What do you mean, 'off the rail?'"

"I mean stir-crazy," she answers frantically. "He's with several other A.I.M units, we caught them heading out to the docks in some stolen vehicles—remember those 'codes' they had you get from Robert Heinecher? Well they've got the _actual_ codes now, and we think they're going to try for one of the underground facilities."

Panic grips my stomach, and I swallow thickly—painfully. "W-when did this happen? Why's he helping them?"

"I don't know, S.H.I.E.L.D sent some of the agents he's been working with these past few months, but he's just not responsive—they're in Midtown right now, and if they're heading to the facility, you'll be straight in their path. So _you_ need to get out of there, _now._"

"N-no," I shake my head, standing to go look out the window—nothing I can see or hear from here. "Loki wouldn't hurt me Pep, maybe he needs help," I cringe as my throat scratches with every breath. "Maybe I can get him ou—"

"_No_," she interrupts sharply. "I just told you, he's not responsive to anyone—he's acting like he doesn't know any of us, he's…" she pauses. "He's wearing that getup of his from the invasion, and he's with Yuriko and the others. You can't use your voice yet _and_ you're sick—he might not hurt you, but _they_ will. Just come to Stark tower, we can still use your help from here." Voices break out in the background of the call for a moment, and Pepper grunts frustratedly. "I don't have time to argue, car'll be there in fifteen."

I blink surprisedly when she suddenly hangs up the phone, and then sigh, trying to work through the fatigue and anxiety, to think straight. "_Fuck…_"

_He's acting like he doesn't know any of _us. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I glance over at the pile of boxes in the corner, knowing that Loki's daggers are buried somewhere deep within them. I might've anticipated tears at this point, but all i'm left with is a sincere tiredness spreading through my body. Whatever this shit show is that our lives have become, the tears just won't rise for it anymore.

Which is probably a good thing—about time for my vision to stop tunneling every time there's an emergency.

All the anger flutters away as I dart across the room to the boxes, moving as quickly as I can with my sickly body. Immediately, I pull the pile apart, rummaging through box after box—until something cuts me sharply.

"_Fuck!_" I pull back, cursing myself inwardly. Well that was stupid—even in the half-numb state of my brain right now, I fumbled too fast.

Thankfully it's only a surface cut in one of my fingers, but I blink down surprisedly at it when I catch a glance of the color of my blood. A deeper red smeared across my skin—almost purple, I'd say. Darker than it should be.

I shake my head—have to deal with this later.

After carefully pulling both weapons out of the box, I move to the bedroom to get dressed quickly. Boots, peacoat, and a scarf. That's all I need, and I hide the daggers in my boots before bolting out of the apartment—going as fast as I physically can to avoid the car that Pepper sent.

She wants me to go to Stark tower, and that's probably the safest option, but…I might not be able to sing just yet, but I can still fight. There are no Avengers in New York City as of now, and who knows when they'll be back? Who else is going to go out on the ground? I was and am an agent of S.H.I. , in some capacity.

Still, that doesn't stop the nagging feeling tugging at my chest, telling me this is a bad idea…a bad, bad, _bad_ idea. A scapegoat to go out and find Loki—however dangerous it might be. Stupid, and reckless…

It doesn't matter. True, my powers have been outside my reach, but maybe I can get some semblance of it back in time. I'm sick, but I can push through it—it's an inconvenience, at worst. So many people push through hours of physical exertion when they're sick. Whether it's exam season, or plain old work…this won't take nearly as long, and it's so much more important.

Of course, the streets of Manhattan do nothing for all the panic taking an additional stress toll. My apartment must have some kind of soundproofing features I don't know about, because I couldn't hear _any_ of this insanity from up there.

The skyscrapers continue twinkling against the night sky, though all their inhabitants seem to have flooded the streets. Being fairly close to midtown, it makes sense for everyone to be running in the opposite direction—while I run toward the smoke and intermittent booms. With one particularly loud gust, I gasp sharply as the ground beneath me shakes.

_Bad…bad idea, Cerys. _

The words echo again and again in my head as I dash down the street, going against the flow of the crowd—feeling my body work extra hard to sustain my harsh movements. Sirens blare against the building walls, and my phone starts buzzing again and again in my pocket. I don't dare to even too look at the screen, knowing it's probably Pepper or her driver looking for me—or both. Hell, if one of them tracks my location, it might even be for the better. A quick escape for Loki, if that's what it comes down to…

She's going to kill me for it later, but that can be dealt with when it happens.

I feel my energy depleting the further I go, and there's still no sign of Loki. None as I turn this corner and that, feeling my footsteps growing slower and heavier, until my feet are practically dragging behind me. Finally, I lean against the wall, and sigh frustratedly at my own stupidity, feeling my temperature rise to an all time high—damn it all, what was I thinking? This is fucking _miserable._

My head rolls against the brick wall as I reach into my pocket to grab my phone, when a flash of blue catches my attention up ahead. I pause, staring toward it—toward the familiar figure, wreathed in blue flames, clambering at the far end of the street like a giant. It's the very same one that nearly burnt Loki's shoulder off when I was kidnapped and rescued, and I hadn't seen him in all the time that I was 'willingly' working for A.I.M. We were in entirely different facilities, and where Yuriko, Alessei and I had trained, had our very own 'Firelord'—Pyreus. We didn't need this one…so who else could be there?

Save for_…Loki._

* * *

Loki strode forward amidst the carnage his companions were creating. All around him, people ran—screaming—as chunks of buildings fell under the force of the Blue Flame's wisps.

"As loud as you can make it, boys!" Nisha strutted happily beside him, and the shrill sound of her voice alone was aggravating. "Light em up!" She hadn't taken anyone's body in some time, and the bright glow of her eyes doused to their usual bright green. Without that glow, she seemed an ordinary—albeit attractive—woman.

A dagger flew from Yuriko's hands somewhere off to Loki's left, and embedded itself in the back of some Midgardian wretch, an impressive distance away. "They've got twenty six minutes to get in and out," she murmured quietly as she walked by. "Then we're gone."

Loki hardly cared to note if it was a man or woman that laid dead by Yuriko's hand—only the pleasurable chaos of the wreckage and discord satisfied the irate flames, which tore through him as he took the city in.

Last time he was here, he had failed.

He failed, and this was Earth's comeuppance. For its utter rejection of the new king, for the ignorance and insolence that bred the Avengers. Pitiful creatures, Midgardians were—in every way. Hardly worth the effort it'd take to acknowledge them as more than hunks of flesh lying in the streets. Dead or alive, their very presence angered him, reminded him of what he tried—and failed—to accomplish. He underestimated the Avengers' strength, as well as humanity's inferior intellect.

Never in a million years would he have had the patience to be a benevolent god.

A bright, yellow light flashed against the buildings to his right, and Pyreus strode out from between them, dousing his flames.

It was all a fair distraction. The start of an elaborate plan to eradicate S.H.I.E.L.D's operations in America (to start), by hitting their home base on this island. Which began with being caught in those awful government vehicles—and Loki was offered to be the figurehead of the plan. Whatever heroes would be coaxed out by his presence were surely outnumbered and outgunned, as they had thoroughly explained. Others, apart from Alessei, Yuriko, Pyreus, and Nisha fanned out to other parts of the city, confusing its law enforcement with the chaos that slowly bled through the streets.

When this was over, Loki will have paved another way to take what was his. He would be the new ruler, elevated by the organization that started it all. Truly, A.I.M was far more coordinated and strategic than the Chitauri ever were. And if there was room in Loki's heart to feel ashamed, he would only regret not taking this opportunity the last time they'd reached out—when he had the tesseract, and sought enemies of S.H.I.E.L.D.

He would not make the same mistake twice, now that they had freed him from his imprisonment. The last thing he remembered was being thrown against the walls of Stark Tower, and his captors had concocted the worst punishment imaginable—existence without meaning. Stagnation, without life or death. He continued to exist, and time passed by while he was kept as a souvenir—locked away in the depths of some facility, frozen in time.

"Well look who it is," Nisha suddenly mused, and Loki blinked away the thoughts. He felt the brush of her arm around his elbow, and he glanced down at her with annoyance as she slid around it tightly.

He followed her gaze to the person standing slightly off-center in the street, coming out from behind an abandoned vehicle. Loki quirked a brow at the strange figure—tall, lean, with curled locks that reached just past her shoulders. Several strands hung over her regal face, as she looked around at them.

A Midgardian woman? No—she was no Midgardian. She couldn't have been plainly mortal, either. Magic plumed off of her in droves, feeding in to and out of every cell in her body, and her life force was strong—despite the ailment of her form. Her appearance gave that much away, as she struggled to hide the fatigue in her features. Whatever was wrong, her body clearly was not managing it well.

Loki narrowed his eyes as she approached them, glowering at him slightly. Confusion flashed in her expression as she looked up at his horns, and trailed her way down to where Nisha had linked her arm with his.

"This…" she finally murmured—even her voice betrayed her state. "What the hell is going on?"

"Been too long, hot stuff," Alessei suddenly sauntered toward her, and the woman merely stared at him, grimacing slightly. "Hear you're batting for the other team these days."

She paused, and crinkled her nose disgustedly. "Yeah, is that what you tell yourself at night?" she retorted lowly.

Alessei chuckled. "Not what I meant, but I like where your head's at."

The woman looked back to Loki suddenly. "Loki, what's—" she took a step forward, and then recoiled slightly. The rage that surged through him in that moment must have been palpable.

He narrowed his eyes. "_Who are you?_"

Her heavy breathing ceased for a moment. Whatever color was left in her cheeks slowly drained, and even her magic diminished just a bit. She looked at him questioningly, as though trying—and failing—to read his intentions.

"I'm…Cerys?" she said earnestly.

All four of his companions turned and stared. Loki's eyes flickered over all their faces, and he figured they were waiting on a reaction from him—though he couldn't make out why. They'd come across so many insignificant being that night, what made this one any different?

He studied the woman carefully for a moment, and then grinned. "Well…come to die early in the night then, Cerys?" he mused smoothly.

She creased her brows confusedly once more, and shook her head. When she parted her lips to speak, Nisha interrupted. "One last condition to our arrangement, Loki," she crooned, offering an unnerving smile as Cerys' eyes flickered toward her. "This woman…kill her for me."

Loki's palms heated with the command, fingers twitched. "Kill her for _you? _I'm no assassin," he muttered in a low voice, making plain that he was ready. "Who is she?"

Regardless of the woman's continued leering since he'd woken, he would listen. Loki wouldn't have a single being standing in his way, and felt no disinclination whatsoever to turn down murder for it.

"She's the enemy. If you want, you can kill her for you—_or us_," she whispered.

"And how many more of these 'conditions' will you have?"

"_What?_" Loki heard Cerys breathe out, and he looked at her—confusion tightening in her expression.

"None after this." Nisha shook her head slowly.

He considered her words, and then nodded. "Very well then," Loki muttered, and took his first step toward Cerys—drawing his arms up on either side. Two long, gleaming daggers materialized in either hand as he strode toward her.

"L-Loki?" The woman's eyes widened as she stepped back, clearly afraid—and rightfully so. "What're you doing?"

Loki relished the sight of her terror, the uncertainty and doubt clouding over her eyes as she backed up against a car, and then fumbled down to her boots. Though he stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar set of crafted blades slide out from her boots. The satisfaction turned to a harsh suspicion, and he gritted his teeth—annoyed by the woman's ploy. She straightened up, posture ready for a fight—the woman was clearly trained. An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, no doubt. Who stole from him in his captivity?

"Well, well," he tilted his head. "Those are some fine weapons—stealing from gods now, are we?"

Her eyes dropped down to the blades. "These…you gave these to me," she uttered, voice dripping with confusion. Loki narrowed his eyes.

"I would never deign to furnish you with such weaponry," he answered dryly, and the woman's face sank further, if that were possible, as he grinned. "No matter—you can keep them."

Her rising desperation did nothing to taper Loki's ferocious impulse, and he darted toward her instantly, twisting and slicing his daggers through the air. If this woman was the final payment for his crown, then she would honor the transaction with her life. And he would cut her down with ease, it seemed—her training was apparent, but her movements were slower and heavier than he'd anticipated.

Moment after moment went by that blades flashed—defensively, on the woman's end. She certainly was capable of holding her own, but she was no match for the God of Chaos and Mischief. He had fought many wars in his time, defeated foes much more fearsome than her. And yet… Loki's movements weren't quite as fast either, which added to the frustration that fueled him, and Loki tried more and more desperately to land a single hit.

"Loki, stop!" the woman pleaded. And for a moment, he hesitated just enough to miss her midsection.

A soldier had no room for hesitation on the battlefield, yet when she shrieked his name again, every impulse in his body screeched to a brief halt—like sliding into a wall, and kicking off it. It allowed her a moment to grasp his horns, and tear his helmet clear off.

Cold, night air blew over his newly exposed hair and skin, while the woman's hand flew back to the crook of his neck—dropping its dagger in the process. "_Loki!_" she gasped, and suddenly pulled closer to him—as though standing three or more feet away was not enough to see the violent disdain brewing in his eyes.

Loki furrowed his brow as he felt her soft breath fanning his lips. "W-what are you doing!?" he exclaimed briskly, realizing the closeness—yet he hadn't pulled away. Nothing inside had insisted on sending her flying.

Cerys dropped the other dagger, and grasped his neck on both sides, pressing her thumbs against his jaw. "_Why are you attacking me?_" she whispered, her voice so full of love—so full of _recognition_.

And for a brief moment, the brush of her fingers—her skin—doused the animosity. The raging storm had quieted throughout his body—though his mind did not follow suit, not even a little. It was a surge of information that he had neither the time, nor clarity to sort. He had no conscious attachment to this insignificant woman. He barely remembered her name, yet her touch had momentarily pacified the harrowing chaos. Had drawn him closer…

Loki's eyes remained open, and the woman hadn't looked ready—and barely willing—in the moment she pulled up to him, and haphazardly kissed the corner of his mouth. Nothing surged through Loki's chest—rather, it was the absence of fire and wreckage that baffled him, and kept him staring at the woman as she kissed his unmoving lips. Magic enveloped them both in a cloud, intertwining so comfortably, so naturally...

_Why?_

"Do you want to be a king, Loki?" Nisha's deadpan voice swept softly through the silence, like an anchor cutting into the scene.

A king…yes, he wanted that crown.

And the thought alone reminded him—rekindled the storm of a failed monarch, and his stomach twisted once again. _She_ was the only thing standing in his way. This woman…

In a pulse of rage and conviction, Loki buried his dagger in the woman's side. The blade cut through the heavy mass of fabric and flesh, until it was buried to the hilt.

Her eyes widened as she pulled away with a soft gasp, peering up as she stumbled for a moment. Still clinging to his armor, Loki stared back until her grip finally loosened. Cerys slid, and fell to the ground before his feet with a heavy thump, dagger still embedded in her side. He hadn't lowered her to the ground, simply let her fall—and once she was there, Loki stared at his finished task, sprawled in front of him.

"Well done, Loki," Yuriko praised as she came up behind him. In the corner of her eye, he saw her glance at the time, and look back up toward the sound of a quintet humming several streets down. "Now, we leave. Come, let's—" She suddenly paused, and it was only in the moment that Loki looked up at her, that he realized why.

Wetness had glossed over his eyes.

Sourceless tears had lined his lower lids, though his expression betrayed no emotion—he felt none. Slowly, he trailed back down to the woman at his feet, barely registering the sounds of his other companions' voices drawing him away. He merely stared, trying to make sense of all that had just happened.

The woman had calmed him. Kissed him. Spoken as though she knew him, and insisted that he gifted her his own prized daggers…

It wasn't until someone had tugged on his arm that Loki finally began to move, still reeling through the information—the touch of her hands, her lips, her breath… Even now, her magic seemed to resonate throughout him, having left its mark deep down inside. The wetness had begun to dry, but he wouldn't forget that it was there—not now, nor in the days to come.

* * *

**So, Cerys' new body doesn't like foreign pathogens. And Evil Loki's mind doesn't remember Cerys in the way his body does, because of what was done to him. This is where the idea for the siren's 'mark' came from! Cerys became a part of Loki in ways that even he didn't consciously realize, and that's especially obvious now, that he doesn't have the romantic thoughts to match what he still feels in her presence. ****This will be important for the next chapter, when he shows up on her balcony after being away for some time (spoiler kinda, but whatever, figured you guys wouldn't mind that detail). ****Owed to the fact that they're both practitioners of magic, dare I say...soulmates, maybe? What do you think? **

**This chapter was slightly cathartic to write, because I am so _fucking_ sick. I was glad that I wrote that into the last chapter, terrible as it sounds, I felt slightly less miserable knowing Cerys was going through some much tougher shit with her fever than I am (even though today was supposed to be my third day of a new job. I've just been having a terrible week). **

**SO yeah. You guys are the best. I'm off to try and nurse my sickliness with some honey and tea, don't know how I'll get through work tomorrow. Fair warning, I'm adjusting to a new schedule, so the next update might come a tad late... But I hope you guys enjoyed, love you all to bits, and I'll hopefully be seeing you next week! **


	21. Chapter 21: Loves me, loves me not

**Guysssss be sure to read my AN for a special surprise. ;)**

* * *

"You failed, Loki—those who fail do not receive _payment_."

Loki watched, draped over a chair in the middle of a vast lab, as Yuriko scolded him. Despite his comfortable form, an infernal headache persevered…the very same one that had not stopped plaguing him for nearly two months. Two _months_ of torment, which had set his worst impulses on edge. Fueled by the endless ire that seemed ever-present in his skin, it responded to nothing—not even the numbness of magic.

"And you know that I don't think it was an accident," she added, eyeing him suspiciously. "So all the more reason, don't you think?"

"I've lost count of how many times it's proven necessary to explain—nonhumans are difficult to kill," he mused. "And now we've learned that this one can't be cut down with a knife."

"—or maybe she can, and you simply struck her in the right place."

Loki thinned his lips into a smile. "Your faith is _truly_ emboldening."

"I'm not in the mood for sarcasm," she said. "If you wanted a crown that badly, you wouldn't have failed."

Rage flickered violently in Loki's chest, and he subdued it with great effort. Nisha's sudden appearance at his side bore the semblance of a distraction at least, as she perched beside him in the chair—leaning above him protectively with her hands on his shoulders. Loki neither recoiled from the touch, nor invited it.

"Oh come on now, Yuriko," she crooned. "It was honest mistake. Let him make up for it—you'll make up for it, won't you?" Loki's eyes darted up to hers as she leaned forward. He nodded slightly, and Nisha grinned broadly as she snapped back up. "There now, see?"

Perhaps he had had a momentarily lapse of judgement. It was the only explanation for his failure, truly. He'd watched that woman—Cerys—for the entirety of the past two months, always keeping to the shadows where she could not see him. He watched her walk along the streets, enter and leave her workplace—for the last time—and on a number of nights, he even watched her settle comfortably in her apartment, laying on the far end of the couch in her living room.

Even from a distance, the effect of that _woman's _magic was both enticing and infuriating—incidentally, it was the only semblance of relief from the insufferable headache.

A clear temptress of magic… Though Loki was a practitioner of a much higher calibre—in their next encounter, he would not be manipulated so easily. It would make him undeserving of a throne if he did.

Yuriko narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll kill her now?"

A grin ghosted his lips. "If I tear her head from her body, will that suffice?"

She exchanged glances with Nisha, and gave a heavy sigh as she considered his words. "Fine," she said. "Deal with it, then."

Loki stood without a word, looking between the two women. He was tired—devastatingly so—of both these characters.

"Loki." He heard his name, and turned. Nisha's lip turned upward with a sly grin as she crooned, "Come back soon."

* * *

They say life just 'happens' sometimes.

No one can predict it, no one can control it. Well, a whole lot of life has happened since the night I almost died—by Loki's hand.

Despite the fact that the S.H.I.E.L.D doctors insisted that he could've done a lot more damage than he must've intended, I haven't been the same since. Everything in life suddenly fell into perspective—who I was, what I was doing, what my life had become.

I never stopped practicing where Loki and I left off, but I quit my job at the Academy.

I couldn't do it anymore. Not with everything going on. In a way, the music dulled to a steady whisper in my heart, and the curtains closed. There's no telling if I'll ever go back to it now, but in retrospect, I've realized that it's been happening for a while—the tides have shifted.

I couldn't keep pretending that I'm still that person. Especially considering the fact that I still had S.H.I.E.L.D to fall back on for payroll, it felt about time I took their long-standing offer to become an official member, instead of a voluntary participant.

They've had me working on a search for Loki since I got out of the hospital. Which meant spending a lot more time with Clint and Natasha than I ever have before—and I never realized just how secretive they'd been. Now that I'm official, they speak so much more freely around me than they ever have before.

"When's the last time you guys went out? Honestly though," I shake my head, glancing at an image of Loki on the projected glass—beside the time, reading 9 PM on a Friday. "This is just depressing."

"You do know that we're ordinary people, right?" Nat says, looking over her shoulder with an arched brow.

"With lives," Clint adds.

Nat shrugs. "Well… I wouldn't go that far."

"So that's a yes, right?" I arched a hopeful brow, watching as they exchanged glances. By the constipated looks of admittance that ensue, I know—it's a yes. "Oh thank _God,_" I let out as I push off of the counter I'd been leaning against. "Okay give me five seconds, I'll get my stuff and we can go."

They exchange another look as I saunter out the laboratory doors, returning moments later with my bag and jacket.

The same car that drops us off downtown will be the one to pick us up later in the night, right outside a massive club. Ordinarily, with this many people packed into a single place, I'd expect to be hit with a wall of salt and sweat, but the tall ceilings of this place keep it well aerated.

Really, if I didn't know better, I'd guess that the place used to be a warehouse—judging by the inside decor, alone. Platforms everywhere, little bridges that look like the overhead of a stage. Tall tables line the edges of the room, with a massive dance floor in the middle.

"Wanna get drinks!?" I turn and yell, and Nat mouths 'what?' in return. Can't hear me.

Behind her, Clint looks around us like we've wondered into a cesspool of churning bodies and sweat.

Which…isn't really all that far from the truth.

After some time, given the lack of audible communication, an elaborate game of hand charades ends with my shuffling toward the dance floor from one of the tables—more or less drunk from copious glasses of a gentle white wine that my body can still tolerate. Clint stays behind, drink in hand, while Nat follows me reluctantly into the mass of people.

The alcohol's gone to my head pretty well at this point, but this is what I wanted from the night. It's been a while since I've gone off those damn pain medications, and I've really needed a stiff drink. I never spend forty dollars on wine, so why not splurge when I really need it?

I lose track of Nat—of who she may or may not be dancing with—and lose myself to the music. To the heavy beat, the loud sounds blaring in my ears. And when a pair of hands appear on my waist, a twinge of guilt slips in and out of my chest. Long, blonde hair whips at my arm when I turn and realize that a girl and several of her friends are dancing just beside me.

Whatever. I turn back, glancing around the crowd for Nat. When I finally see her, the twinge comes back at the sight of her barely swaying to the music—looking more uncomfortable than anything else, the poor girl.

I wave her down, and she steps through the crowd, like an anchor cutting through the bodies. I take her hand and continue dancing, pulling myself away from the would-be partner, who returns to her group immediately after.

I slow down just a little for her, but nearly stutter to a stop at a brisk movement in the shadows up above. Eyes peeled to the ceiling, I make out the figure of a man crouching on one of the platforms. Some dark, gleaming suit, boots—long hair?

"_WHAT IS IT?_" Nat yells, and I barely register her voice. When I look back up at the ceiling, the figure is gone, but the bitter shock it left me with is palpable.

"_I—I DON'T KNOW!_" I yell back at her, waving my hand. "_CAN WE GO?_"

She nods in understanding.

Clint mouths something indiscernible as we saunter back to the table, and the collective frustration with barely hearing each others' voices ends with us leaving the club shortly after.

"Fuck," Clint cringes as he glances back from the sidewalk. "Remind me not to go out with you guys ever again."

"Shouldn't have come here, I guess," I shrug. "Do you guys _want_ to go somewhere else?"

Truth be told, I'm not crazy about the prospect either…but by the way that they exchange tired looks and rolling eyes, their meaning immediately clicks in my drunken head.

"Did you guys even want to come out tonight?"

Nat presses her lips together, and gives me a pitying look. "This isn't really… us, Cerys," she says, her voice turning firm. "And look, I know you've been having a hard time, but yes—we did this for you."

"I mean, I don't really mind clubs _that_ much…" Clint murmurs, rubbing the back of his hair. Nat shoots him a look, and he presses his lips together in silence.

My entire chest sinks. Likely exaggerated by the effects of the alcohol—which have already begun to fade.

"Well okay," I shake my head. "Could've just said so, I guess. Let's… let's just get the car and go."

I sigh as a twinge of embarrassment tightens in my chest, in the wake of the conversation. I don't know why I thought tonight could fix any of what's been going on. I'm barely cusping my thirties now, but Nat's tone said it all—I should know better by now. I should spend these free moments thinking rationally about what to do next, instead of trying to forget about it… it's the only way.

* * *

Leaning against the metal railing, Loki squatted and rubbed his aching temple—the music inside that loud inferno had aggravated it severely. When the subtle click of a lock on the other side of the glass, his eyes flickered up from the cracked ground.

A dark silhouette strode sullenly into the apartment on the other side of the glass—darker than the rest of the space—and he watched as it dropped its things down on the counter. Tucking a hand under a dim living room lamp, the living room filled with a faint light, illuminating the underside of Cerys' face.

He tilted his head slightly, studying the features he'd become more and more acquainted with over the past month. He watched as she trudged to her room, and reemerged moments later, donning a thin shirt and loose shorts. She was home, and settled—with hardly a layer to protect her delicate skin from the sharpness of his dagger.

It was time.

Loki stood, and slowly approached the balcony door. Cerys hadn't yet noticed his presence, having sauntered into the kitchen. And with a gentle motion, Loki slid the door open with his magic. It had already been unlocked—owing to the height of the apartment, most likely.

It took a brief instant for the unexpected breeze to reach the woman, and she turned sharply toward him—eyes widening when she saw him. "_Oh my God,_" she gasped, dropping an empty mug onto the floor.

It shattered instantly, but the woman merely glanced down at it before carefully stalking around the kitchen island, making for the far side of the couch—away from him. Loki nearly stuttered to a stop the moment they locked eyes, feeling the magic pour from her violently—dampening the headache slightly. It waxed and waned as he stalked around the room, growing closer and further from the woman.

Her face was a combination of fear and disbelief, and she backed up fully to the end of the couch, while he circled around the room. Her eyes darted momentarily to the kitchen, and he followed her line of sight, seeing the knife rack she'd glanced at. Surely, he expected nothing less—the woman was obviously a trained to react.

And for that, there was something odd about the way she moved. Something that had little to do with her inebriation.

Loki's senses were keen, and far superior to any Midgardian—enchantress or not. Human or not. His eyes trailed over her once, twice… he could all but taste the alcohol on her breath, and see the uncertainty in every movement. The fear in the heavy rise and fall of her chest. He hadn't intended for his eyes to fall to her breasts, but they swelled beneath the light, strapped shirt. Her face had blanched, and all in all, she seemed…plain. Plain and frightened—small and frail.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Curious to find you alive."

No response.

Loki smirked, facing her on the opposite side of the couch. "Aren't you going to invite me to sit?" he muttered wryly.

Silence hardened around them for a time. "_Y—you're back,_" she breathed out quietly—more to herself, than him.

His grin faded at the sentiment. "One has to visit a place once, in order to return."

Cerys blinked down at the couch, and up at him. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. "Why are you here?"

"I came here…" he hesitated, eyes narrowing. The effort to sift through the vicious instincts seeping under his skin only aggravated his headache. "because of you."

Brow furrowed, she shook her head gently, never once leaving his eyes. "I don't understand."

Loki's jaw clenched, and a rising annoyance coiled in the pit of his stomach. Why had he even entertained this conversation? So utterly useless, it only served to further his—

"And where have you been?" she asked suddenly.

His lips thinned into a straight line. "Not your concern."

Confusion had now fully swept across her features, as she so clearly tried to make sense of his demeanor. Her eyes flitted back and forth, and then settled back on him. "Then _why are you here?_" she choked.

A faint glossiness had lined her eyes, and for a moment, Loki focused only on that—on the woman's…_tears._

His entire body hardened. Jaw clenched tightly. No one had ever shed tears for him, and he merely watched the woman carefully. While little by little, the glossiness pooled as she awaited a response, lip beginning to tremble with emotion.

_An insulting ruse. _"You're crying," he stated sharply.

Her features had contorted slightly, but she immediately pulled them back as best she could. Her neck tensed as she said, "I…" she paused, gathering her broken voice. "I didn't know when I'd see you again."

"Why would that matter?" he said, stepping around the couch, toward her.

"You don't know," she murmured—again, it seemed—to herself in large part.

Loki was now halfway across to her, yet she no longer recoiled. "No, I don't." He stopped a few feet away—her very life hanging by the thread of his curiosity. "I don't know who you are, either."

Her eyes swept up to him, and her face began to glisten with strain. "I'm Cerys."

"I know that," he said. Loki had learned all he needed to know of her habits, her preferences, and even her physique in the time he'd watched her. "You cry, perhaps for me, perhaps for your own life—yet I don't know who you are, if it is for the former."

He followed her gaze as she trailed down the couch and paused, swallowing thickly. "I…I am—was—someone to you," Loki stayed silent. Her eyes remained fixed on the far end, on the armrest and pillows that were strewn there—where she had used them to sleep, no doubt the night before. Finally, she spoke again in a quiet whisper, "We were…friends, for a while."

He arched a brow. "_Friends._"

Cerys looked up at him slowly. "And then we weren't…and then you went away for a while."

"Lies," he droned—though the woman must have been quite masterful to disguise her lies so aptly. There was the slightest rise in his pulse as he watched her, feeling her magic sweep over him. It allowed him to control his temper, just a bit.

She shook her head. "I've never lied to you."

"Having spent no time around me plays a part in that, I'm sure."

"I've known you for almost half a decade," she answered a bit more tersely—a bit more bravely. Slowly but surely, Loki could see the frustration brimming. Her magic intensified with it, seeping from all over, but mostly from her voice. "I lived with you, I had breakfast with you every day, I walked home from work with you, I slept w—"

Loki blinked at the admission. "What?"

"I…" the woman seemed suddenly flustered. The irrevocable shift in the air was palpable. "I just…I just know you. I've known you for a long time."

He pressed his lips together, and looked off to the side. "For that to be true," he said. "It would mean that everything I've been told by my comrades is a lie."

Her face contorted with disgust. "I can prove it."

Loki stared for a moment into her golden eyes. They didn't falter—and in a low, steady voice, he uttered, "Go on, then."

Cerys raised her chin bravely, and gestured to the couch. "Sit."

Loki's gaze fell down her backside as she turned, and disappeared into the bedroom. He made his way over to where she indicated, and sank into the couch cushions. When she reappeared, she brought some device with her, and sat some distance away from Loki. It flared aglow as she propped it open, every so often casting a glance toward him in the corner of her eye.

He watched her delicate hands move about the keyboard, and found himself trailing up the length of her arms, down her backside, around her waist…

"Here," she said, drawing his attention back to the screen.

A white window had opened, with a number of small tabs at the side. With his keen vision, Loki watched as she navigated deeper and deeper into the folders, until he read the final tab that she shifted the little pointer to—'_music box,'_ it read. With a subtle click, an array of photos appeared.

And in the briefest of moments, even Loki's breath had caught in his throat—though he quickly gathered his devices, and scanned through the list of images before she enlarged the first one. A wooden room, with towering glass windows appeared. As did he…with that metal Avenger, his woman, and his own Asgardian kin. Thor, Heimdall, Sif, and…_Cerys._

"This," she murmured solemnly, looking toward him—while he kept his gaze on the screen. "was when we went to Switzerland together…"

Another, brighter photo came up. Far across a field, Loki was atop a branch in a snow-covered tree, and Cerys stared up at him from the ground, looking apprehensive of the snow that was captured falling midway through the air.

In the next one, Cerys was frozen mid-movement on a stage, dressed in an adorned costume, with Loki and his kin in the front row. Next was a table of food and drink amidst a dark, decorated club with 'New Years' banners in the back. Another was a formal gala of some sort, with the pair of them donning a combined red-and-black combination—Loki in his dark suit, and Cerys in an ornate red dress. Another looked to be a celebration of Ostara, with elegant tents lining the background of a wooded camp…

With her progression through the photos, an uncomfortable silence settled in Loki's heart. Truly uncomfortable…Sickeningly uncomfortably. There was a growing warmth—genuine warmth—in the photos she flitted through.

Happiness.

Contentment.

Cerys paused over the final photo in the album. Loki recognized the setting instantly—it was Stark tower. Not far from the very spot where he'd attempted to take Stark's mind with his scepter. Thor sat beside the two of them on the couch, happily grinning at the sight of Cerys reaching out annoyedly to the camera, with Loki's face buried in her neck. By the way his lips were pressed against her skin, it was clear that he'd been kissing her, and that she'd been pulled into his lap—now falling backward against the empty space beside her, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and false protest.

"These are fabricated," he muttered, though his voice lacked any conviction.

"You were drunk that night…" he blinked up at her, and Cerys continued staring at the screen. "We made a bet that Earth wine could still get you drunk, and it took twelve bottles…"

Loki furrowed a brow, and looked down to see that there were indeed several bottles on the table before them. He rose from his seat and stalked halfway to the balcony, when he heard her voice again, "I forgive you, you know…"

He stopped and looked back. The woman had continued staring at the screen—looking more exhausted than anything—and several tears streaming down her stern expression. He had never seen anyone cry for him. No one had ever thought him worthy of their tears—not that he knew of, save for his own mother. Yet, there this woman was, her magic gentle and caressing, even in her state…

She looked up at him and shrugged exhaustively. "I don't know if you'll ever remember me. And I don't know if you'll end up killing me, 'cause I can't fight you off… but if it does happen, and you remember me one day," she said, rising from the couch. Loki's eyes widened as she drew near. "I just want you to hear me say that I forgive you. I love you, and I know that what's happening isn't your fault…"

_I love you._

He could only stand and stare—stare at the woman laying down her life. Forgiving him for whatever he would do.

Even he could feel his features softening at her earnestness. Movement rippled in her arms, and Loki didn't recoil as she slowly drew them around his neck in a gentle embrace. Magic flushed through him, sweet and caring and…numbing. And when she began to slide away, he met her eyes immediately, and held them—even when she paused mid-movement at his unexpected expression.

Cerys' brows creased in a quick impulse and she leaned up to him, pecking his lips softly. Loki's eyes fluttered shut at the warmth of their contact—her lips being the strongest point of concentration for her magic—and remained so when she pulled away…the effects were simply intoxicating.

When he finally opened his eyes, moments after she'd pulled away, the look on her face was that of confusion. He waved it off in his mind, and leaned in for another kiss, laying his hands on her curved waist this time. She moaned slightly as he slated his lips over hers, drinking in every bit of ecstasy that her magic had offered, and nearly growled when she pulled away abruptly.

Her cheeks were flushed, but her face was brimming with uncertainty. Cerys whispered, "Y—you don't remember me…do you?"

Loki stared for a moment, and shook his head slightly. Sure enough, even he was unsure of his intentions—he only knew that he wanted more of whatever he was feeling. It was the most relief he'd felt in months.

He didn't wait for her to react again, and he leaned forward into her once more—giving his hands free reign to brush along the sides of her thin shirt as he stepped closer. If there was any uncertainty left, it melted slowly from her end as well, and Loki briefly opened his eyes to see her sharp intentness—like she'd missed him, regardless of everything.

The kiss grew more desperate on both their ends, for different reasons. Loki was willing to accept that. Clearly, Cerys was as well. She whimpered quietly when he pulled her against him, and tugged at the edge of her shirt. Their lips remained connected, but they stumbled this way and that, bumping into the furniture until they reached the bedroom.

Their clothing left a trail behind them in the ambient dark, and Loki shoved the woman onto her unmade bed before crawling on top, desire burning through his senses. He'd been with strangers before, and there was never a reason—absolutely no reason—for their sighs to be so exquisite. For the sound to be _so_ divine, on such a profound level. For the rise and fall of Cerys' bare chest to be so enticing.

His head was swimming as he took her wrists and held them crossed above her head. In a swift movement, Loki slated his body onto hers, and with a heavy kiss, he buried himself in her with a sharp thrust. She gasped, and he gritted his teeth. Relief turned to unbridled bliss, and Loki set his hands, his teeth, his tongue loose upon her. A brief gasp of pain interrupted the moans, as he scraped his fingers down her side, and gripped her tightly with his other hand. Pleasure coiled in his abdomen with every thrust, tighter and tighter, until it came loose with a heavy groan.

Loki didn't fully know—and didn't care—if the woman had been satisfied. He fell against her on the bed, and it took some time before their breaths had settled. He waited, forehead pressed against the pillow, as she crawled out and went for the restroom. While she was gone, he considered leaving right then and there…though her immediate distance allowed the cruelest thought to creep back in—the woman could not prevail in escaping him. She was still a problem.

When she returned, Loki looked up at her from the bed, and they stared for a moment at each other.

"Are you…staying?" she muttered.

He narrowed his eyes, and waited some time—feigning that he'd been considering the prospect, while his mind churned out a plan. He nodded, and shifted over to make room.

* * *

Now was the time.

Loki stared at the woman's profile from the end of the bed. Moonlight bathed her in a pale glow as he slid toward her—careful not to wake her—and a dagger materialized in his hand. One arm slid beneath her pillow, ready to stop her should she move in a panic, and his tall stature caged her against the bed. He could feel her breath against his lips, eyelids growing heavy—with desire or conviction, he couldn't tell—and he brought the tip of the blade up to the back of her jaw, to the soft spot just behind her ear.

And there it was; the last point of his contract. The final act. And though she shifted uncomfortably under his weight, Loki…hesitated.

_I just want you to hear me say that I forgive you…_

He recalled her words suddenly.

_I love you, and I know that what's happening isn't your fault…_

Something tightened in his chest—but how? Why? Why did it matter? Regardless of whatever past she presented to him, regardless of what happened between them…he could deal with their lies later. There was the possibility of a different future to be won. A future to be had, if at least that portion of their agreement was true. He could always find another woman, if that's what this was about…

Her eyes flitted open just a bit, and Loki froze, eyes widening a bit as he stared down at her. Slowly, he moved the blade away. And with their bodies still touching, Cerys pressed her lips together as she slid her hand under the pillow—grasping his tenderly.

The dagger slid from his hand, and clattered against the floor. Cerys turned her head toward the sound.

"What was—"

Loki clamped a hand on her jaw, pulling it back and descending on her lips with another kiss. More intently than before—there was a _need_ this time, for the sacrifice he'd just made.

Perhaps it was because he preferred the ecstasy to stay alive. Perhaps he could find another way, another arrangement—surely Yuriko and the others might succumb to his silver tongue, weaving the tail of Cerys' apt manipulations.

_The woman is hard to kill._

He would try that. If that failed, he would concoct something else…though he would think about that later. Right now, the affections at hand were domineering. The kiss had grown more savage in the last few moments.

Her hands were trailing along his backside once more, her moans seeping from her throat with every movement. Perhaps this time he would make it sweeter—perhaps this time, he could have her screams.

Loki spared no time. Running his hand along her side, he brushed against the scar where he'd stabbed her months back. He pulled away momentarily, but resumed when Cerys pulled his face back down. He shifted atop her until he could thrust into her sharply, and took her passionately, forgetting the world—pounding with every ounce of strength that she allowed him to, again and again and again, until she cried out with pleasure. Taking him over the edge with her.

Rarely had he ever met his end with his partner, but there was something about her elation that had pushed him over it just then. Whoever she was, whatever their past, the woman had certainly left a mark on him.

* * *

**So, that dagger bit... I've literally pictured it since God and the Siren. Because whyyyy? Because you can't make Loki do anything he doesn't want to do. BAM!**

**On a lesser note, though... I've gotten significantly less feedback on this story, and I'm not really sure why. I don't know if people are getting tired of it, or don't like what I'm doing with the characters, but yeah. It's a little tough on the muse since I've now got so much going on (new job, book, editing job, etc.), but I guess it's okay. Of course, SoS and HB1, you two are pretty much Cerys and Loki's angels. Sometimes I go back and reread your reviews just to feel a little bit happier with the story. So thank you guys. **

**The SURPRISE, tho? I started a new story, called "Lower Your Eyes." It's different from this series because it takes place in Asgard, and involves the royal family. It's also intended to be a super light hearted read, full of palace intrigue. And it's got FRIGGA in it, because who doesn't love Frigga? Here's the description, in case anyone wants to check it out: "_A slave has never served a member of the royal family. That's what the higher-ranking servants are for-so when a particularly foolish young woman spills food onto the lesser prince, at the grandest feast of Asgard, the palace is struck dumb by his subsequent request to employ her... Gods help that poor fool._"**

**So yeah. Easy read. Can relax and enjoy that ride for the most part. I mostly started writing it for myself, cuz I need the break from all the intense shifts going on in my life right now. Hope you guys like it too! Til next time! :) **


	22. Chapter 22: See yourself the way I do

The morning after Loki's visit, I sullenly vegetate alone on my couch. Naturally, he was gone by morning, though I wasn't really expecting much more than that. Zombie ex-boyfriends probably don't make great morning-after callers, even if they are a bit… _enthusiastic _the night in question.

It was surprise enough that he'd shown up at all, that he hadn't killed me, and even more that we…

We actually…

_Ugh. _I throw my head back over the armrest, and close my eyes for a moment while a sitcom flickers on the TV screen. Meanwhile, the hot tea in my hands nearly spills, and I jerk back upright to catch it—creating only more movement, and subsequently spilling it.

"_Shit," _I hiss as I wave my burnt hand in the air a bit, and set the mug down on the table. A knock comes at the door, and I merely yell in turn that it's open as I clean myself up—knowing exactly who it is.

"Hey," Pepper saunters in, carrying a small plastic bag with the breakfast takeout she'd offered to pick up. "Happy Saturday."

_"__Happy, happy…_" I murmur absently, my mind trailing off to thoughts about how I'm going to tell Pepper about what transpired last night. "How was your night?"

"Well, you know…" She sighs as she plops down on the armchair, and starts de-packaging the food. Omelet for her, eggs benedict for me. "Uncomfortable heels, fancy post-schmoozing dinner on the water, engagement ring in the champagne…"

"Wait, _what!?" _I gawk at her, arms shooting up into the air with shock. "What the hell!?"

"Yup, he finally did it!" She smiles, holding her left hand out to me. My eyes widen at the gargantuan rock on her ring finger.

"Holy crap Pep, that thing is something else…" Warmth floods into my chest. "You're about to start your lives together, I just—I couldn't be more happy for you."

"And this ring is _literally_ something else," she pulls her hand back, observing the room. "Have you ever heard of _benitoite?" _

"Uh…" I laugh. "No?"

"_Neither have I,_" she giggles excitedly. "And I mean, I probably could've guessed it when I walked in and the entire restaurant was empty, but I thought it was just Tony being Tony until we got our drinks… And then he was on his knee in front of me!"

I look up at my best friend, sitting across from me and staring happily at the ring on her finger. The warmth explodes into tearful joy, and I smile broadly at the sight of the bliss and contentment brimming in the corners of her eyes.

"Pep, I'm so happy for you," I say softly, standing up to hug her with a film of wetness over my eyes. "Come here."

After a lengthy, somewhat emotional hug, she pulls away and says, "I'd like you to be my maid of honor. You're the closest thing I have to a sister, to scapegoat it to from all my other girlfriends."

"Oh I accept wholeheartedly—and if they try to fight you for it, they can come fight me instead," I say, sitting back down on the couch.

"I'm making sure that that gets listed in all the engagement announcements," she smirks. "And all the invitations, everything—I don't know how long Tony's planning on keeping this out of the media, so Nat and Clint might hear about it from you before us."

"Well I went out with those two last night, so we might just be moving toward the 'gossiping' phase of our friendships."

Pepper arches a brow. "You went out with Hawkeye and Black Widow?"

"Yeaaah, and it went about as good as it sounds."

"Your fault for trying to get them to have lives," she says, reaching out for her omelet. "How late were you guys out for?"

"Well we weren't out long as a group, but I was up pretty late here… like, in my apartment…"

With a forkful of egg shoveled into her mouth, Pepper furrows a brow at my tone. "Yeah I don't know if you're trying to be suggestive or something," she says, speech muffled. "'But I really don't need to know what you do here in the middle of the night—"

"Oh my God, ew," I shake my head. "No—no that's not what I meant. Loki actually came by."

I flinch as bits of egg go flying out of Pepper's mouth. Slowly but she surely, she doubles over in a coughing fit, careful not to let her food go flying. "Wait, what? What the hell!?" she chokes out. "What do you mean he 'came by? For a night cap, or what!?"

"I, uh…" I pause, thinking over everything. "Well I mean, yes and no. He came, and we talked, and then…."

Pepper's expression falls as my voice trails off. "And then what?" she asks lowly. "What happened?"

I say nothing for a few moments, allowing my face to contort into a bit of an embarrassed cringe. Pepper stares blankly at first, and it takes a second for the realization to splatter across her expression. "Oh God, _seriously?_"

"It just _happened, _I swear!" I throw my hands up defensively—toeing the edge of amusement at her reaction. "Honestly, he showed up on my balcony, and then he seemed all confused, and then we were looking at old photos. Next thing I know, he plants one on me—what was I supposed to do?"

"Uhhh, maybe _not_ sleep with the guy who tried to kill you two months ago?"

"It didn't feel like I was sleeping with _that _guy," I shift on the couch, curling up a bit more comfortably. "It was…emotional. The second time, anyway."

"You slept with him _twice!?"_

_"_I mean, it was a few times," I answer briskly as she blinks in shock. "but it's not a big deal! And it felt familiar, you know? It was like…somewhere deep deep down, he was the same guy who knew me."

"Because it was the same guy, Cerys. It was the same guy who put you in the hospital, the same guy who invaded New York, and the same guy who somehow magically got you to fall in love with him."

"I know," I shake my head. "All of that was there, but it just made me think about how the doctors said I got lucky—and how everyone else was saying that he must not have really wanted to kill me. I'm…I'm pretty sure he even had his knife at some point. I heard it fall against the floor when I woke up, and I knew the sound because I've dropped his daggers so many times."

"So what happened, then?"

"Well, he…" I pause reluctantly. "I mean, he—he grabbed my chin, and…turned me back, and," I murmur, gesturing around my body. "_Y'know…_"

Pepper's face contorts. "_Eugh, okay," _she mumbles as shakes her head. "Well, this complicates some things, then."

"What things?"

"I had something I needed to talk to you about. I was going to wait, but since we're on the subject," she says, motioning her hand defeatedly. "I needed to ask how you're doing with your voice. Whether you're making any progress with that."

In fact, I _had_ been making progress. Especially after quitting my day job, it left entire evenings for me to practice. In that entire time, my voice never seemed to get tired. Though the magic was another story…a different one entirely.

"I have, yeah. It's different from the way it was before, but I've got a pretty good handle on it."

"Different how?"

"Well, it's almost like it goes deeper than it did before, if that makes sense…like using it reaches deeper into me than it ever has before."

Pepper nods slowly, a look of deep contemplation on her face. "And how does that relate to other people?" she asks reluctantly. "Would you be able to use it, if we asked you to?"

I shrug. "I mean, I could try… I've got sort of a vague idea of what it'd be like, but I haven't really done that trial by fire bit. Why, what's going on?"

"We've got some intel that Yuriko's organized to have one of our execs kidnapped."

My eyes widen. "And by 'our' exec, you mean…?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

Silence hardens around us for a moment. "That's a little balsy of them, isn't it?"

"It is," she says. "It means they're planning something big. They want uninterrupted access to our intelligence. That's why I got dispatched to ask you for help, if you've got it…especially since Nisha's set to make an appearance too. It'll be the whole humanoid crew."

"Do you think it'd put a period to everything, once and for all?" I ask earnestly.

"Put an end to it? No. Not permanently, maybe just in the country," she says. "—and I'm glad it sounds like you're willing to try, but that's also why I'm doubtful. Loki's going to be there."

I furrow a brow. "If Nisha's going to be around, I still want to go. I owe that bitch a favor—my relationship with Loki doesn't change that."

My eyes drop down to the coffee table momentarily, trailing over the food boxes and mugs, laptop and array of books I haven't touched yet. I myself am donning the same pajamas shorts and tank top I wore last night, while my hair is much greasier and awful looking from rolling around all night. If I showed up like this, I doubt Nisha (or anyone, for that matter) would even _want_ to touch me, but I'm better at this now than I was before.

Though it's almost comical to think that someone like me would get enlisted. I'm probably the least intimidating-looking person in the whole damn world.

"Loki's going to be a problem if you can't keep your emotions under control," Pepper says sternly. "I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but that's the downfall of a soldier."

"I know it better than you do, trust me," I answer just as sternly. "I can control myself, and…" My thoughts trail off for a moment, toward all the practice I've gotten in the past month. To the scintillas of magical outbursts I've experienced while doing so. "I think I've got something I can try."

"What do you mean?"

I frown at the initial thought that follows. "Nobody's known this magic better than I have—neither before, nor now. And…I don't think we can get Loki back to normal, Pep," I say quietly. "Especially now, after everything that's happened…I don't think we can 'undo' what they did to him."

"They had to have given him a pretty strong cocktail for it to take _him_ down, of all people," she nods sadly. "But what does that have to do with this?"

I grin, feeling my throat tighten just a bit. "Well, there might not be anything we can do for that, but…maybe there's something else I can try. Honestly, I don't even know if it would work, but it'd be something."

"What is it?"

I shrug, creasing my brows thoughtfully. "It's hard to explain—but I'd probably need your help."

"How?"

I look at her. "I think…I'd need you to make sure everyone is in the room."

Her eyes narrow contemplatively. "I can make that happen."

* * *

Loki hadn't returned to A.I.M in days. He'd spent the majority of the time traversing the streets of New York with a cloaking spell. After seeing all those images on that woman's computer, he visited as many of them as he remembered. There was a studio for her birthday, the center where she'd had her very first performance, and the Central Park, where they'd celebrated Ostara…

He'd made his rounds through various human portals of information, learning that his people had indeed settled here years back. A kink in the chain of information he'd been fed by his associates… And to have thought that they'd abandoned Asgard, to learn that Asgard no longer _existed—_it was more devastating than he'd imagined it would be. The loss of the place he once called home…

Each visit to the locations also drew an uncomfortable blank, and each time, he'd decided that it was the last—until the impulse struck him again. His headache had also returned, though considerably less, and the wildness in his blood had doused a little. Perhaps the result of what he'd experienced in Cerys' bed, perhaps from the questions and confusion that threaded through his thoughts—where were their people now, if not in New York?

He could at least walk through the park without wanting to tear someone's head off. There were too many blank spaces in his memory for fury—only confusion. As though something had been scooped from his thoughts, and left nothing in its wake. In those moments, Loki thought of Cerys, of Thor, the Avengers, the Asgardians—all the things he'd seen in the photos that night. All the images. And the impressions of Cerys' touch lingered on his skin, even when he sat alone one night on a bench in Central Park, face buried in his hands.

"_Loki,_" a quiet voice mused, and he recognized it immediately. He dragged his eyes to Nisha standing just down the cement path, and straightened up a bit. Wearing a deep green dress, she was bathed in the city lights streaming down between the trees. A bag was in her hands.

"Going somewhere _nice_?" Loki droned, noting the color choice of her dress. He'd lost count of how many innocent touches here and there that she'd offered him—her intentions made plain. She herself never wore green, but this night, her breasts were nearly bursting from that dress.

"You've been gone—and you didn't finish the job."

"Neither could you," he murmured.

Nisha's face remained taut. "Were you going to come back to us?"

"Would you have had me if I did?"

Nisha paused. "_We may yet,_" she finally mumbled. "The plan has to go forward. S.H.I.E.L.D knows where we'll be tonight and why. Cerys will be there too."

He remained expressionless, but something inexplicable dug at him, at the thought that his associates were tracking the woman's whereabouts. "So?"

"So, you're coming with me."

"Why?"

"Because she can't use her magic on a god, just like I can't. Which means you're the only one who can get close enough to kill her," Nisha murmured unhappily. "It's your last chance. And your only assignment."

Loki pursed his lips together, contemplating the implications. "You want me to go to where Cerys will be, and dispose of her?"

"Or distract her long enough for one of us to do it," she said as she approached, and held out the bag to him. Her tone, her movements…everything was colder than it was before. Distant, and detached. "So get dressed."

* * *

A gala—that's what Nisha was dressed for. And the bag she'd handed him contained a suit. Their instructions were simple—they went in from the top of some fine hotel, and made their way down. The target would be lingering amidst the crowd, and a car would be waiting for them outside.

"Dysseus, Mark and Rager will keep the others distracted," Yuriko had clarified on the roof, and presented them all with several small devices. "Once this is on him, he'll just walk out. We won't have to create a scene. And if anyone gives you trouble, use it on them too—the more people we have on our side when this goes down, the better."

They dispersed after that, and Loki kept silent for the majority of the meeting—and after—while he followed them down the stairs. And it didn't take long for them to reach the hall where the gala was being held. It was a vast space, and riddled with a myriad of sounds and smells as people crowded within it. They spoke, laughed, even yelled a bit as they furthered their intoxication.

There was still no sign of Cerys. Though when Thor's face appeared amidst the crowd of people, Loki ducked away from it—it was easy to hide in the vastness of the building, and listen to his conversation with Stark.

_"__Several men dead on the seventh floor, and they're not all ours…"_ Stark murmured to his brother. "_They're definitely here._"

_"__In such a large space, there's no knowing what they'll attempt—if we know they're here, why not go up through the hotel ourselves?" _

_"__We've got agents up there, already caught several of 'em… We need to keep an eye on the president, and Pepper said to stay down here." _

A third, feminine voice appeared. _"Cerys has a plan,"_ she said, and Loki paused mid-step. _"She said everyone needs to be in the room."_

_"__And what does she hope to accomplish?"_ Thor asked.

_"__I don't know,"_ the woman responded. _"To be honest, the way she talked about it, I don't really know if this'll work." _

_"__She's going to get herself killed one of these days—and us," _Tony muttered. "_Why are we listening to her? We know their MO, we can fan out and do this ourselves…"_

_"__Because Loki's important,"_ the female voice said earnestly, and Loki stiffened, creasing his brows as his chest tightened painfully. _"He gets caught up in this, they'll kill him too. And if anyone's got a shot at stopping that, it's her…"_

"_I appreciate that,_" his brother responded earnestly.

"—Loki," Yuriko's voice suddenly whispered beside him, drawing him back as she appeared at his side, covering her face aptly. "We've got him."

He looked at her, and parted his lips reluctantly—as though coming out of a dream. Movements continued on around them, and they blended easily among them all. "The device?"

"Planted," she said, giving the look on his face a double take. "Let's go."

"And what about Cerys?"

Yuriko's expression remained flat—unfazed. "What _about_ her?"

She turned and walked off briskly without another word, while Loki creased his brow confusedly at her nonchalant response. It only took a moment of watching her drift off before he started after her, ignoring the boisterous sounds of the crowd, turning and listening to some mundane introductions on the stage. It took moments for them to circle around the hall—either avoiding security, or disarming it with their little chips.

"_New York's Cerys Adelin…" _

It wasn't until Loki heard Cerys' name, that his eyes darted around the room for the source. And when he found her, she was a vision in red—the same dress she'd worn in the gala they'd attended together. She filled it a bit more than she had before, though her face was solemn—nothing at all like it'd appeared in other photos, particularly ones that beheld her on stage. None of the light, none of the joy. As though she were there for a job, and nothing more.

Cerys barely gave the man a nod before sauntering to the center of the stage, and fanning her eyes over the crowd. A melancholy tune began, matching her solemn expression, but Loki was distracted by the sudden stuttering of a guard. It took all of a few seconds for him to react, and the music went on—with him distracted from it—while he watched the hints of life leave the man's eyes. He was no longer himself, and would not be for as long as the device remained on his wrist.

When Loki turned back, he caught glance of Yuriko's lips quirking upward at the sight of Cerys. Meanwhile, Cerys herself continued to look nothing like she did in the photos—no mirthful gaze, or hint of enjoyment at being looked upon from the stage. She appeared uncomfortable, as though she was trying hard to maintain confidence in what she was doing, and it took a bit longer for her to find him in the crowd.

When she did, her expression didn't change. If nothing else, it only grew more determined, and it resonated in her voice—which was deeper, and more layered than he'd anticipated from her usual, feminine speech…or from the way it rose in pitch, during a moment of ecstasy.

Loki blinked the thought away—momentarily unsure of why he truly was still following Yuriko through the crowd. He saw that even his brother and the others had followed her heightened line of sight, and found him in the crowd. Stark stepped toward him, and mumbled something into his wrist, but Thor held him back, glancing at Cerys expectantly.

It was in that moment that Loki felt a shudder, matching the wordless vocalizations that Cerys had reached in the song. Another step, and he felt it again, and Yuriko's harsh whispering seemed to fade as he dragged his gaze back toward the woman on the stage. Her face was taut and determined, but also knowing—proud, confident. The notes continued, growing in skill and intensity, and her arms rose with her to the steady, rising beat of the song's climactic moment.

She looked off to the side, off toward her friends, who stared back at her intently—for a moment at least, until they looked between themselves with decidedly perturbed expressions. As though they'd all suddenly felt the same, invasive sensation at once. Loki followed her gaze as she trailed from that side of the room to the other, where his eyes widened at the most unexpected sight—that of Sif and Heimdall, also blending aptly in the crowd.

After the onslaught of questions and confusion the past week, it was almost cathartic to see a pair of familiar faces. The shudder in Loki's chest grew—as though something was being carved out in his chest. It was both painful and sweet, and as he looked back at Cerys, her allure grew—the siren's magic at work. At work from the very start, from the moment they met…

Cerys was still looking toward Heimdall and Sif, though her eyes tore into his core when they darted straight to him across the crowd. Her gaze tore past his confusion, his fury—even past the vision of the woman staring at him in that moment. Her power was there, pluming toward him in a wave of knowledge.

Knowledge of himself, as though drawn from the depths of someone else's core, was branded into the depths of his mind. Images reeled as though they were part of the song itself—shared by the traveling wavelengths of the vibrant vibrato pouring powerfully from Cerys' throat. He saw and felt it all; the events of his imprisonment, the destruction of Asgard, the meetings with S.H.I.E.L.D that decided his fate on Earth…

He saw the look he'd given the first time he heard Cerys' voice, seeing the two of them through another's eyes, and the first time that they truly spoke on Stark's balcony. He saw the plane ride he'd endeavored beside her, saw when he shook the branches of a tree to cover her with snow, saw the moment he'd given her the little music box, the gifting of a diamond bracelet—which she wore now—and the moment he left. The look of hurt when he said his final goodbye in the airport, the way she'd turned and walked away, to be followed by her friend moments later.

Then came his brother's memories, Heimdall's, Sif's—all the time he'd spent with their people in a place called Norway, the cloudy afternoon when Thor came to him with the proposal to return to the Americas… He saw them traversing the streets of New York, and the vision of Cerys beneath another's man's arm. A campground with innumerate trees, a skulking animal in the middle of the night, the touch they shared when he kissed her against a tree for the first time. And then, when they laid together in the same capacity, on her couch some months ago, he momentarily relived the closeness and relief—after she'd fallen from the roof with Nisha's power roiling in her eyes…

It was everything. Every moment, every feeling—all the answers appeared there, nestled in a quiet corner of his heart. A place that the siren had created and marked as her own, so very long ago.

He let out a sharp breath as he held her gaze from across the room, and she lowered her hands as the song began to finish—looking a little unsure of herself, and him.

"_Loki,_" Yuriko growled, tugging at his arm. Loki sliced to her, suddenly seeing—_knowing_—all that she had done. All that she had caused.

She made his woman cry.

With a flash of movement and anger, a dagger materialized in his hand, and Yuriko barely managed to cast her eyes down to it, before it was embedded in her skull.

Hell broke loose in the onslaught of gasps and screams that followed. His companions rose against the members of A.I.M that made themselves known—some Loki knew, and others he didn't—and he turned against them. Devices were either torn from their necks, or they were disposed of for their alliance with the organization.

The violence was palpable, and in the corner of his eye, Loki caught sight of Cerys dodging the slash of Nisha's blade—avoiding her touch as she cried out to the woman to stop. Which was neither an order, nor a plea. It was simply Cerys' will.

Nisha's movements came to a screeching halt, and the space trembled with the coarse vastness of Cerys' voice, as she towered over the woman falling to her knees. An unequivocal darkness clouded her eyes. "_Die._"

Nisha—who'd looked like she was being choked—suddenly grew taut, eyes filling with blood. Her features suddenly drooped crookedly, as though she had lost all control of her own movements, and she fell to the floor. Dead.

Loki darted instinctively across the room to Cerys, as she lifted her skirt and pulled a dagger out from a hoister wrapped around her leg. Attacks came from one side and the next, though he would protect her this time—if any one of these dullards made a move against her, he would snap their necks slowly, so they could fully appreciate their ensuing deaths.

He lost count of how many bodies he'd flipped, how many throats he'd slashed, before the fighting was over.

The room had settled to a state of post-panic panting and sweating, and Loki turned to face Cerys once more—mere feet from where he stood. She was tired, though not as tired as the other mortals in the room—she was much closer to his demeanor, than that of anyone else.

The uncertainty had hardly left her eyes, however. Her body remained taut as she hunched above a mutilated body, bloody dagger hanging at her side. Cerys' eyes were hard and unsure as she stared up at him, and though Loki now understood the pull he felt toward her, the look on her face kept him from indulging it.

She parted and closed her lips several times, as though sifting from one potential remark to another. And when he stepped toward her, she stilled.

"_Brother!_" They both flinched at the familiar voice, breaking the momentary silence.

Thor appeared in the space between them, and threw his arms around Loki in a heartbeat. He stumbled back a bit, but the glimmer of anger was doused immediately by the infinite recall—there was too much between the two of them now. Too much had happened.

Thor's face sank a little as he pulled back—gandering at Loki's lack of enthusiasm. "D—Did it not work?"

His hands disappeared from Loki's shoulders—while Stark and his woman, as well Sif and Heimdall approached the group. They all stared at him expectantly, but none more intently than Cerys. Their scrutiny felt a bit overwhelming at first, like he was some miniscule creature being eyed and evaluated beneath a microscope. If nothing else, his body betrayed no aggression—there was none to speak of. Not with all that he now knew—perhaps remembered, if it could be called that—about the concerned eyes staring at him from all over.

"Brother, what do you remember?" Thor asked him, and Cerys glanced toward the god momentarily before returning to Loki—encouraging the question and answer.

Loki shook his head slowly. "I—I don't remember things," he muttered reluctantly, carefully phrasing his words. Everyone but Cerys' face fell a little. "But…I know much more than I did before."

And yes, there it was—relief loosened the corners of her eyes a bit, and her lip quirked upward. "_Yes,_" she breathed out, and silence befell them once more. "That's it…"

"That's 'it?'" Thor repeated, a bit more happily. "You mean it worked?"

A steady, comfortable warmth bloomed in Loki's chest as he stared down at Cerys. She grinned broadly, summoning their rediscovered closeness. "Yeah, I think it did."

* * *

**I stayed up way too late for this, lol. So the idea I had for the development of Cerys sharing everyone else's memories of Loki with him, was that I wanted it to be a metaphor for what music really is. When we create music and write/listen to songs, we share our experiences. Cerys' abilities were meant to be a metaphor for that-and a palpable ability to melt Nisha's brain. No brain = can't use your creepy possession magic. My inspo for this scene was "Shallow" by Lady Gaga, and the red dress is the same as the one from GATS - but it's also the one in the cover art for this book! The cover art IS the gala!**

**Obviously, Loki's not 100% back to normal. Maybe like 85%. It's going to take a hot second for his brain to catch up with the rest of what he knows, but the important thing is that he remembers Cerys, and everything they've been through together. He'll talk more about this in the next chapter (hopefully what I have in store is as emotional to read as it will be for me to write). But it's a weird experience in his head right now. We are all collections of our memories, and Cerys' determination to stay by his side and love him through everything will only strengthen their relationship more. It's all feelgoods from this point out - I'm a big believer in satisfying endings. None of that GoT bullshit. **

**In addition to that, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I could go on and on about how crazy the full-timer/writer/editor/student's life has been these past few weeks, but all that's important is that I thank you guys for your support during this tumultuous time. Knowing that you guys were still here all along, reading the story, was all I needed to get back to happy camper status in the fanfic arena of my life. So thank you. :) **


	23. Chapter 23: Asking Too Much

It was the strangest feeling, to know one's life without remembering it physically. To _know _every person…know their faces, their voices, their histories—yet, if he wanted to remember what it felt like to knock snow onto Cerys' head, or to have his shoulder burned terribly to protect her, he couldn't. He only knew that it happened, felt the rushing impact of it once over again, while seeing it in his mind's eye.

Evidently, Cerys bore no physical memories of most of her life's events. She'd explained that she too, could not exactly recall the physical sensations of various moments of her life—including the first time they'd been together. Perhaps Loki had once had such keen remembrance because he was a god. Cerys only knew what had happened in certain fashions, and that seemed to be enough for her.

Meanwhile, Loki's unbridled, inexplicable feelings for the only woman left in his life were the first things to come into focus. All the strangeness he'd faced before regaining the memories of their past made sense—when he looked at her, he placed her smile to the peacefulness he felt. Her sarcasm to the twitch of playful aggression. Her intelligence to his intentness. Her history to his simmering possessiveness. Cerys was no longer an 'entity'—she quickly and aptly became his life's central constant. An anchor of stability. Her patience with his failings and frustrations—even before his memory loss—was decidedly remarkable.

It was like taking a breath of fresh air, following that first night. The events of the week prior had made sense. And as the following weeks and months went by, things felt more normal with each passing day—save for the physical symptoms.

The aggression and headaches still reared their faces at times. Both made better by their nights together, as Cerys never refused Loki. He had merely to turn over in the middle of the night, and gently ease her from sleep with intent caresses that sent little bumps rolling over her skin. He could cage her against the bed, slide atop her smaller frame, and _demand_ her half-sleeping attention with ease—and if the subsequent sounds were any indication, she loved having him between her legs.

Every caress, every kiss and thrust was laced with protection, love, closeness, and…_dominance_. These days, Loki desired her desperately—more, not less, despite the fact that their encounters were almost nightly. And they had become just that—a desperation. Whatever Loki felt once, he couldn't imagine it was any stronger than the spectrum of emotion when Cerys was both near and far from him.

She was intelligent. Whatever trials and tribulations they'd faced alone—and together—fostered a person capable of formulating the most insightful perspectives on all of life. She was _kind…_ A quality Loki never thought twice to appreciate before, not in anyone else. On his worst nights, when the rage pounded and headache throbbed, she never refused the simplest touch. Never recoiled when he hoisted her onto his lap, and buried his face into her neck for no reason. This woman…she was a reservoir of patience. A goddess of kindness.

And that was why he fought so ardently when he'd returned from Norway—he would have lost his senses to have given up.

On the third night of the seventh month of living under her roof, Loki quirked a brow as Cerys strode into the room, ready for their outing that very same evening. His eyes scraped down the length of her as she strutted into the kitchen, clad in a form fitting, little black dress that eased into lacey strings at the bottom—bouncing around her legs as she walked. A black trench coat had been thrown over it all, and the lightness of her hair contrasted beautifully against it.

Evidently today was her friend's birthday, and there was a celebration of sorts being held in Stark tower. He rose from his seat on the couch and sauntered across the room to her, while she chewed on her lower lip, tapping away at her phone. She ignored him as he leaned on the counter beside her, fiddling with the fringes of her dress, and even tucked her hair behind her ear.

Finally, she looked up at him. "You ready to go?"

Loki had to force a _bit_ of a smile at that, smoothing her hair down. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Cool, let's get going then."

Ordinarily, Loki might've asked her to stay home—knowing she'd likely agree—but tonight would have been a strict rejection. It was a special occasion, after all. Very special.

It took all of thirty minutes for their car to arrive at the street below, and take them over to the tower. And the moment that Loki stepped through the elevator doors with Cerys in tow, he could _feel_ the eyes on him. Many had retained their grudges for his original attack on New York, and a number of them had been made aware of his role in the last one.

Not that he was any kind of leader for A.I.M—not yet, as he'd thought he would be—but there were many that didn't believe the stories about his memories being stripped from him. It was easier to comprehend that he was a monster, through and through, to the very core.

In many ways, they were right. Cerys kept the aggression at bay, but it was a struggle when he remained away from her for long periods of time—hours, even. His tolerance for the intervals had grown slowly as the months went by, but they never diminished fully.

This also did not preclude her from the abuses of others' opinions.

Not unlike the glimmers of dourness that splayed across several of the partygoers' faces when they walked in. Alcohol and friendly banter weighed heavily in the room, and as Loki's eyes darted from Cerys' kindly expression to theirs, he would have happily ripped their faces clean from their skulls for daring to look at her in such a manner.

Stark merely glanced at him as they approached, offering a cordial nod—nothing more as the ladies exchanged excited greetings, and poured over the gifts received that evening. It was rather lengthy, considering they'd only seen each other just the other day.

"Have you seen my brother?" Loki finally turned to Stark, who merely gave him a plain look, and gestured in the opposite direction.

"There."

"Thanks," Loki said tersely, leaving his woman behind with her friend to follow in the direction he'd indicated.

It only took a moment for Loki to spot him in the crowd, along with Sif and Heimdall. They'd obviously been discussing something pleasant as he approached, and all three of their faces shifted a little when he walked up to the group.

"Loki," Thor patted him on the shoulder. "Good to see you, brother."

"Is it?" he smirked. "You all are looking a little sullen just now."

"Nothing to do with you," Heimdall said.

"If you say so."

"Well, that's…that's not entirely true," Thor said, casting the others a look. "Our return home is overdue, and we've been discussing options to return to Norway together—"

"No." Loki interrupted him, barely giving the careful thought that his brother obviously thought this would incite.

Thor arched a brow slightly—though he hardly looked disappointed. "No?"

"_No._"

"I…I assume you're implying you want to stay here," He glanced across the room, presumably in Cerys' direction. "With Lady Cerys."

"That's right."

Caution seeped into Thor's expression. "Perhaps you should discuss this with her first, brother."

"I can do that," Loki said, looking back over his shoulder at her. "Tonight."

"Perhaps not tonight, Loki—it's like to upset her. Now's not the time for it."

"I will discuss it with her in another fashion. She won't even realize it."

All four of them fell silent. "What do you mean?" Thor finally asked.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm worried, brother."

"Don't be," Loki looked back at him. "I have ulterior plans tonight. I shall discuss this with her then."

"Ulterior plans?" Thor furrowed a brow. "And what might those be?"

"_None of your concern," _he said smoothly, a wry grin tugging on the corner of his mouth.

* * *

Loki moved in to my place. Which had a number of implications at first. He never frightened me, or made me feel intimidated, but there was a whole ton of moodiness to contend with, which often led to silent evenings and midnight walks—ones that he took alone. At times, his own frustration would get the better of him, and he almost seemed annoyed that I wasn't so willing to lash out at him for it.

As if I was _supposed_ to blame him for what happened.

It was rough in the beginning, but things steadily improved in an exponential fashion—thankfully. He needed to _actively_ work on what was happening, and so he did…presumably the more he figured it was affecting me negatively. Which it was, and wasn't, depending on the night. There were undoubtedly moments when I had to curb my own frustrations and tire, just to help him get away from his. And from there, we fell into a routine pretty easily.

We began leaving the house, showing up in places and gatherings together. We'd revisited so much of New York in those early stages, reminiscing on everything that had happened. Stark tower was one of the places he still had trouble visiting, but no more than before—whether he realizes _that_ or not. Tony and Loki were never two peas in a pod.

The looks I've been getting, though—even tonight, at Pepper's _birthday _party—have made casual socialization a bit of a problem. They're not _particularly_ new, but still so unpleasant to know that someone's smile is a straight lie to my face. It's unfortunate that people have some conception of any business in my personal life, but…I suppose I understand.

Not that I would change any of it.

For all that the past few months have been difficult, they've also been enriching. Every now and again, we come across a blank in Loki's memories, but only a few of them are truly significant… While I wouldn't call his encounter with Rita significant, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't satisfying to know that he has no memory of that, either.

"Cerys," I hear his dulcet tone over my shoulder, and only then realize that I'd been staring off blankly into the skyline.

I've spent all of fifteen minutes leaning against the wall over in the corner, not having fully realized just how occupied I've become with my own thoughts. After all the initial greetings and celebratory gestures, I was set loose, pushed this way and that by the onslaught of well wishing industry colleagues, until I wondered off on my own. And just like always, they related back to Loki in some form or another—even the ones about going back to the Academy, if they'll have me.

"Hey there." I offer a weary grin. "How's it going?"

"Fine," he answers, snaking a hand over my shoulders, with a decidedly content expression.

Slowly but surely, his hand slides down along my side, and he steps in—dipping his head down for a kiss. Like a couple of teenagers in the corner of a party. His lips are soft as ever, caressing mine in a gentle, chaste kiss—shielding me slightly from the room's view. And when Loki pulls back, the very same look remains solidified in his features.

His lips quirk upward. "We should go."

"We've only been here an hour…" I murmur back, eyes flicking down to his lips momentarily.

"We'll come back," Loki says, glancing out at the skyline himself. "But there's something I wish to discuss with you—and the night is warm, we should take advantage of it."

I glance out at the balcony. "I remember the last time we took a 'walk' up here…" I say, reminiscing on the last time Loki followed me onto that balcony—to give me a birthday present. The diamond bracelet that I still wear occasionally. With a smirk, I look back up at him, vaguely remembering how he'd apologized to me out there for his awful behavior. "I remember the first time, too."

Loki's eyes flickered with discomfort. "I…don't remember that well."

Unsurprising, considering how shaky my own memory of that night is. I couldn't recall our exact conversation if I wanted to, so naturally, neither can Loki. "That's alright," I say, brushing my hand over his collar to flatten its creases.

He grins a bit sadly, fiddling with the ends of my hair between two fingers. "It is, isn't it?" My smile falters a little at the ways his voice softens suddenly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he shakes his head. "But I could use some of that fresh air."

The 'fresh air' that he's referring to turns out to be more than a simple walk—yet another trip out to Central Park, actually. The impulse to complain wars inside me with the impulse to just let it go, and with the light of New York streaming down on us through the trees, I opt begrudgingly for the latter. I'm meeting with Pepper tomorrow anyways, so it's not all likely that she'll get upset, but still…

"I'd ask why you wanted to come all the way out here," I smirk in the dark, gripping his arm tightly with my own, "but that'd be old news."

It really would. We've frequented Central Park a number of times over the past few months, and it's almost always the same. The same path, the same, remote little bench, the same view of the city through the trees. It's the optimal way to unwind after a strenuous day. Not exactly what I would call this lazy Saturday, but Loki's headaches sometimes act up without his telling me…

"Old news indeed…" he mutters as we lower down onto the bench, trailing his eyes up to the tips of the trees. "The leaves will soon begin to fall."

I glance around at the treetops above, nodding as I acknowledge the cold lick in the air with a heavy sigh. "Yup… And then, it'll be no more walks."

"…_No more_ _walks?" _Loki smirks incredulously. "Well I'll come down here on my own, if I have to."

I chuckle at the thought. "Oh you most certainly will—don't worry, I'll have tea ready at home when you come back soaking wet."

"And if I'm not soaking wet?"

"Well," I shrug. "Then maybe I'll give you a hug too."

Loki remains silent, eyes scanning the tree line slowly—as though deep in thought. I take the moment the enjoy the night, too—it's just late enough that no one else is out here, and brisk enough to feel fresh against my skin. And with my arms tucked around Loki's, I lean my head against his shoulder, letting him take my hand and rest it atop my crossed legs.

Finally, he arches a brow, tilting his head down toward me. "Is that all you'll give me?"

I snort quietly. "Well, kisses cost extra. But maybe, if you're nice about it. And if you don't track any mud in."

"And?"

I lift my head up to look at him. "What, you want a ride too?"

"Yes, _always…_" he mutters matter-of-factly, draping his gaze back down to the ground. "Anything else come to mind?"

I scoff amusedly, resuming my use of his shoulder as a headrest. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

Loki's lips pull back into a soft grin, and he stares at the ground silently for a moment. With a gentle squeeze, he finally turns his head down toward me, until the tips of our noses are barely touching. "Your hand."

A ton of bricks suddenly slams straight into me, sinking into my stomach like a heavy weight. I blink several times, as though I'd just jumped in and out of a stupor. "_W—What?_"

He disappears from my side, nestling just beside me on the ground—layering his hands over mine as he props himself up on one knee. Nestled as close to me as he can possibly get, I barely register the need to squeeze back against the pressure of his tight grip. Feeling stupefied by the piercing sliver of heaven glowing in my chest, my jaw drops slightly as I stare at him—unaware of what I must look like right now. Probably donning a look of daze and disbelief.

His soft expression is difficult to make out in this light, but with a flash of green light, the little emerald ring that appears in his hand glints in the skylight.

"A minute detail," he mutters, turning it over in his free fingers, atop our clenched hands. "But I've had this for quite some time, now," he quirks a brow amusedly, "My brother knew, though I don't imagine he figured I'd use it. And I can't place exactly when I'd gotten it, but… if you'll have it," Loki tilts the gem toward me, and I can hear the question in his tone—only now feeling the tears rise. "…_and me._"

I'm strong and weak all at once, tumbling through every last second—every last detail—winding back to the first day we met, in the lobby of Stark tower. When I held out my hand to say hello to him, and he merely walked away. Fast forward years later, and the cold gaze he met me with that first night is melted away, leaving a pair of mildly anxious, loving emerald eyes studying me searchingly. Waiting for an answer.

_Oh, right_—he needs an answer…

I slide my hands out from his grip. A flicker of nervous apprehension darts sharply across his features, as he looks down at the movement. I grin a bit as his eyes dart around my hands, catching the slightest bits of movement before looking up at me—staring at me motionlessly as I pluck the ring from his grasp. Holding it in my hands a moment, Loki begins to match the soft smile stretching across my own face, following my gaze back down as I slip the little band onto my left ring finger.

* * *

**CALM! CAAAALM! GOT IT? CALM? K. ME TOO. **

**:D It's not over yet! I'm thinking there might still be another 2-3 chapters, depending on a few things. The chapters in this book were much longer than God and the Siren, so that's why we're coming to a close a little bit sooner than GATS did. But this isn't the entire "satisfying" ending I wanted to dish out for you guys, I'm really hoping that their wedding is going to be even more joy-inducing. There's still a ton more to come. So be sure to get into your favorite comfy chair or sofa corner when the next chapter comes out!**

**To honor everyone that's been with the story since God and the Siren, I'm opening up the floor to some wishes. I already know how the wedding is going to go (I have it outlined and all, like I always do), but I'm open to adding more. So if there's anything that anyone would really want to see, some character they'd want revisited, etc. then now is the time to toss that up into the air! Aside from that, I hope you guys liked the chapter, and I'll be seeing you all again very soon. :) **


	24. Chapter 24: Now and Forever

The biggest downside to marrying a prince, if ever I were to find one, is that I have had zero control over the planning of my own wedding. Marginal say over the choice of dress, and little to no say in the venue itself.

Which, in the grand scheme of things, is only mildly perturbing. It's certainly not to say that it's all gone south, of course. On the contrary, I never would've been able to design—or afford—a wedding like this one. A fact that I'd turned over in my head again and again these past few months—and now the moment is finally here, I'm…_fucking_ ecstatic.

Standing on the outskirts of the giant venue, my limbs tremble as I teeter in place in my giant heels—which are meant to carry me down a massive alleyway, through the giant crowd of Asgardians.

Who will be watching me on all sides. Every last one of them.

_Every single _one.

Along with the rest of the world, apparently. Though with the onslaught of nervousness and excitement swirling around in my chest, the additional stress of a televised wedding is marginal. A number of the people here are political guests, and I would never have had such an extravagant wedding without their 'monetary gifts'—in exchange for some a well-publicized invitation.

A bit more political than I would've ever imagined my wedding being, but there's a meaningful aspect to it that I appreciate. Loki and his people—my to-be family—honored by all of Europe. It's almost…poetic.

Something tugs on my train, and I look back to see one of the wedding girls—for lack of a better name—fixing it up behind me. With a quick peak behind the white curtain billowing in the arch before me, I take a heavy sigh. The venue itself is gorgeous; a beautifully adorned colosseum, donning pillars and European architecture. And if that weren't enough, there's the onslaught of additional decorations all around us. Tasteful fabrics and strings of little lights hanging up way overhead, swaying in the high winds.

Our friends and family—my parents included—are seated at the very front of the arena, and those are pretty much the only people that I know. I can only get two seconds of a glance out to where they're sitting before a friendly face pops up in front of me…

"You okay, Cer?" Pepper's voice jolts me back from scanning the backs of their heads, just as I was planning to trail up to the massive height of the walls and cameras being touched up for the perfect angle.

I exhale sharply. "Yeah…" I turn back to her with a smile. "Just a little overwhelmed…"

"Right—yeah, don't worry 'bout the cameras," she says, barely looking me in the eyes as she busies herself fixing up the crystal adornments in my hair. "You'll get used to them, and all the important people are going to be in the front, anyway."

"Right," I smirk. "Forget the millions of other people…" The millions of other people watching form home, who don't know Loki's history—thank God.

"Those millions of people are just going to be thinking about what a hot couple you are," she says, with a hint of dry sarcasm—still fixing up my hair. What a dedicated maid of honor, I've chosen. Dealing with me without so much as a nervous flinch at my scowl—not even when I mockingly threaten to impale her with my shoe.

I let out a tension-cutting chuckle. "Well okay, you think you won't be nervous on _your _wedding day?" I arch a brow, scanning her intent face as she finishes up. "That'll be just as publicized, if not more."

She shrugs. "I'm used to it. I will be anyway, when the wedding actually happens."

It was strange at first, to be planning—or watching my wedding get planned—before hers. But the nice blend of media relations, business trajectory, and lack of time to actually plan the big day is the cause of their postponement. That and Tony's bougie insistence that they get the _finest_ venue around, which is booked almost one and a half years ahead.

A deep, blaring voice comes on over the intercom, indicating that we're about to begin. "Fuuuuuck," I exhale sharply, fanning my face with my hands—feeling a smidge lightheaded. My heart races as I squirm in place for a bit. The bits of gold embroidered in my dress glint with the movement—the same gold hue that will adorn Loki's armor.

…also white.

And that is a subject that Pepper and I laughed about more than anything else throughout this whole thing. A fair amount of it was back at our apartment, around my kitchen island in Manhattan—at the perfect angle to throw Loki smirking glances over our shoulders. The way his eyes narrowed, and chin tilted down each time we did…pure amusement over his hypothetical 'purity.'

Or dangerous lack thereof.

"_Calm,_" Pepper makes a breathing gesture with her hands, "_Breathe_—you're going to be fine."

"I _know!_"

"Just remember to kick your feet forward so you don't trip!"

_Shit. I forgot about the possibility of tripping. _

The smile melts from my expression suddenly, as applause breaks out on the other side of the curtain. Eyes wide, I stare at Pepper as she throws her arms around me in a bear hug, and then turns to teeter off to the front row with a resounding '_thisissoexciting!'_ All in all, she wasn't exactly allowed an _active_ role in the royal wedding, but as far as I'm concerned, all her maid of honor responsibilities have been fulfilled.

In a matter of minutes, everyone disappears from behind me, save for the single staff member sticking around to open the curtain for me. The voice continues blaring on the other side, but at this rate, it'll take that woman's good work to even signal me to walk. Without her here, I'd probably miss it by a beat—which would be bad, since it would leave Loki walking toward the altar alone from the other side of the colosseum. It would be exceptionally awkward if he arrived ahead of his bride…or without her.

"S'Loki's over there now, huh?" I mutter to the woman nervously as I wait, and she looks over at me with a nod—pin straight hair, brown falling over her shoulders.

She lifts a hand up to her ear, and murmurs something indiscernible into her microphone.

"Is he nervous?"

The woman merely rolls her lips together in an awkward smile, and shrugs. "Sorry, don't know."

I sigh, feeling so _fucking_ wobbly where I stand. Another sharp movement up to her ear, and the woman bobs her head at me, before stepping toward the edge of the curtain in a long stride to pull it back. And as soon as it opens up in front of me, a multitude of faces appear on either side of the aisle, with cameras perched on top of the elegant theater at the far end of the colosseum.

_Walk—walk!_ I shake my head just a bit, and flash a smile as I stride forward onto the walkway—nothing in my hands. Per the plan. Too restricting of the confident walk I'm supposed to sport down the aisle.

The music is lovely. Enlightening, even—encouraging and exciting. My pace rises bit by bit, unhindered by the mercifully tall front side of my skirt. With a quick glance to my side, across the sea of faces, I see him—the only eyes that matter, out of the myriad of others watching me now.

Loki.

I can't help the double take I make in his direction, feeling my jaw tighten a bit. Exceptionally sunkissed—when the hell did he manage to get tan a shade darker?—and glowing in the light color of his armor. Hair perfectly combed and tumbling about him in waves, framing his regal features as he throws me a look across the crowd. The subtle grin that tugs on the corner of his lip is suddenly soothing as those _green_ eyes rake down my body.

I'm _marrying_ him.

Fifteen minutes from now, I'll be _married._

It takes an effort to subdue the excitement tightening in my throat, and I smile as I refocus on the pathway—trying _not_ to trip and fall and embarrass myself on international television. I could just imagine the mid-movement pictures that would spread across news stations. And from where I am, I can now see our friends, who'd have a front-row seat to it: Thor, Heimdall, Sif, Tony, and Pepper…the big five. The very same that were there the night that Loki and I met. There from the beginning, and now here—at our newest beginning. And the rest of my family, distant relatives and the like—my mother being the only teary-eyed one.

I turn the slight curve at the end of the walkway, seeing Loki in his fullest stature now, with a thin gold cape trailing over his shoulder. I look up to meet his eyes, brighter and lighter than I've ever seen them in this ambient light. His eyes flicker down the length of my dress, imperceptible to anyone outside the two of us, and he holds out a hand to me slowly.

I reach out and take it as we step up to each other, turning to slowly climb the altar together.

"Just so you know…" I hear him mumble quietly as we slow to a stop, where the Asgardian minister is supposed to descend toward us. I glance over at him with a grin, seeing him staring straight ahead, eyes slightly narrowed. "I'll be tearing that dress off with my teeth."

My grin falters sharply, eyes widening a bit in horror as I glance at our friends over my shoulder. Pepper, while mildly teary, is just as oblivious as Tony. The same can't be said about the other three—Thor especially—donning expressions akin to shock and mild amusement. Thor more so than the others, as he chuckles just a bit.

I don't dare look at anyone else around them. Not a chance in hell.

I blink back to the altar, biting back the smirk threatening to rise. I squeeze his hand instead.

The minister approaches us finally with somewhat of a warm expression, as though he's both honored and happy to be here. We'd met a couple of times before this actual day, and while he was perfectly cordial and professional, the ensuing Nordic vows were slow to roll off my tongue.

…they're probably destined to be now, too.

Loki takes both my hands, and faces me. And despite the amalgamation of formalities and small prayers to the gods laced into the traditional text, the gentility in his expression is calming. His voice, deep and soothing, like it always is.

For a moment, nothing exists between us.

Finally, his lips stop moving, and he stares at me for a moment with an amused grin. Brows shooting upward when I stare back at him in a daze.

Oh, _shit—it's my turn._

My mind draws suddenly a blank as I stare at him wide-eyed for a moment—by the stroke of some miracle, the words pang into my head, and I nearly flinch as they start pouring forth, inwardly hoping and praying that no one noticed. Save for Loki, obviously, who smirks with a subtle, loving shake of his head. I grip his hands tighter as a cool wind blows between us.

"…_ekteskap_."

I blink as I breathe out the word—_married._

Loki steps toward me slowly, and all the air around us stills. He's kissed me so many times before, and I can't remember the last time my heart beat so wildly. The last time that all sights, sounds, and smells disappeared around the softness of his lips.

_Married._

* * *

"Immmmnotdrunk," Cerys mumbled, poking Loki straight in the chest with a wobbly smile.

"Yes you are, darling," he said with a smirk, amused with her utter inebriation at their wedding reception. "You'll have this glass of water," he said as he handed his wife a crystal glass, "and then we'll dance."

The dance floor had been left relatively empty since they arrived, as all their guests were busy eating their dinners. Despite the fact that Cerys had grown warm from the alcohol, she remained perfect-looking—only Loki could know just how drunk she was, and only from his close proximity.

He chuckled as she brought it up to her lips shyly, wearing the facade of a perfectly grounded, sober bride as she scanned the crowd. "When did you even manage to drink so much?" he asked.

"Thor was m'best friend" she slurred with a mischievous grin. "We drank a bottle of wine," Cerys gestured with her hands, "One him and one me."

Loki's grin widened a bit with a chuckle. The air of the evening far too pleasant to warrant any negative emotions-and laughed a bit at the humorous image.

Loki was accustomed to grand events, being a son of royalty, and he knew that Cerys wasn't—he noticed her nerves quite early on in the evening. Though there was something else that glinted in her eye since the start of their ceremony. Proving that it wasn't all anxiety and nerves.

There was a peaceful contentedness in her that resonated in him as well, and Loki was grateful for the first time—grateful for the entirety of his life, in all its forms and aspects.

Cerys didn't take long to sober up, which was normal for her these days. Evidently, the quickened metabolism had also been part of her genetic metamorphosis—among other things. Nearly two years had gone by, and she hadn't aged a day. Practically no change at all. As though her existence had suddenly come to a standstill. Even Pepper had aged a bit.

Not that he was complaining. The longer they had together, the better. He was glad to have been spared of the time when that was even a consideration. Namely brought up when they said their goodbyes for the first time.

Loki shook his head, purging the memories from his mind. This wasn't the time or place to ruminate on such events.

Especially not as Pepper approached the table. Her makeup had run a bit during the ceremony, unlike Cerys,' but she had cleaned up considerably for the reception.

...aside from the slight wobbling. That part was a mess.

Pepper gestured between them as she strutted up to their table. "You two gonna dance, or what?"

At least she was lucid enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Or _what?"_ Cerys grinned at her amusedly.

"Well _we_ wanna dance," Pepper pointed back to her table, where Tony was leaning back in his chair. Both Loki and Cerys' brows shot up at the exuberant, drunken smile that stretched across his face.

"Yeah, okay, he looks like he's getting a little antsy," Cerys said as she turned to him. "Let's go?"

Loki nodded warmly as they stood from their chairs, and Pepper teetered off with a quiet '_finally'_ on her lips. The dance floor was large, and Cerys had insisted on dimmed lighting for their very first dance. It was a decision that she and Pepper made made together—all part of the process. Cerys' dressed billowed as she walked, and goddamn, did she look stunning in it. She squeezed his hand just enough to warrant a look as they strolled to the center of the floor.

The room grew quiet when the music started. Loki looked down at his wife as she pulled close to him, his chest tightening with something...odd.

A strange sort of state came over him for a moment. It wasn't the effects of Cerys' closeness, nor was it some carnal desire. It wasn't dissatisfaction, and nary a trace of unhappiness could be found in the corners of his heart tonight.

It was the realization that everything had led up to this. In some form or another, this was his endgame. _She_ was his endgame after all. And that thought alone brought on a particular type of feeling that he never quite envisioned for himself—standing there, opposite someone, with a flush of memories cascading through his mind as he moved slowly with her.

Cerys' grin seemed to have tapered off as well, her eyes brimming with as much thought as his were. Memories, perhaps. Stretching all the way back, as far as he could remember.

This woman wasn't there from the very beginning. Cerys wasn't there the first time he'd learned of his origins, nor was she there when he fell from the Bifrost. Short hair, painfully bitter heart, and all. She wasn't there when Thanos had tormented him, or when he'd been imprisoned. When his mother and father had died, when he had watched Asgard burn from the window of his ship.

If someone had told him that first day, or any day thereafter, that he would end up here? Well, he likely would have turned and ignored them completely. Incomparable dullards.

At least, that's what he would have thought. Looking at it now, every step seemed meaningful. Every interaction. Everything that made him who he is, and then funneled him toward her. From the moment he'd first felt the thrum of her magic, to when he first shook her hand. To the moment he'd decided to apologize to her on Stark's balcony—what an important decision that was—to when they said their goodbyes.

He remembered the electrifying feel of her skin, when he'd healed her of her injury. The worry in his heart when he sat at her bedside, after she'd been poisoned. The hurt he felt when he said goodbye. It was easy to comprehend, to grip and envision those emotions, because that was what Cerys induced. He could easily imagine losing her, in one form or another, and he rejected the pain that threatened to rise—hardly imagining how he could have coped with it the first time.

Loki gripped her tighter, pulling her closer to him. A gesture that made her smile.

None of the pain mattered now.

Loki, Son of Odin and Prince of Asgard, married the woman he loved. Even in his darkest moments. Even in hers. And as his eyes trailed down the length of her body, pausing over her abdomen, the corner of his mouth quirked upward—grinning at all the possibilities of their future.

"I love you, darling," he murmured.

Cerys paused for a moment and smiled, releasing his hands. She stepped forward—dropping their formal poise—and snaked her arms around his neck. All thoughts of the surrounding crowd were seemingly gone, and she embraced him as she had a million times before. Sometimes in lieu of something, and others to merely interrupt him passing her in the hallway.

There was only ever one reason for it.

"I love you, too."

* * *

_Oh, gosh... so a number of you are probably wondering where the second chapter is. To be honest, no matter how I tried to write it, it just felt wrong. Probably because their wedding was always intended to be the last chapter, and it felt so 'final' when I wrote it. Though in lieu of my promise for two chapters, I'm considering writing a prologue for this story when I have the time. Possibly about them honeymooning in Paris. But for all intents and purposes, this series is finished._

_And, guys...this wasn't supposed to happen. When I started God and the Siren, I didn't even plan on finishing it. It was just something to practice my writing with, and I had some ideas in my head that needed to get put on paper. Siren's Mark was especially not supposed to happen-it was all you. And your feedback made me a better writer. To the point that I even scrapped the original project that I spent months working on, because my writing changed to the point where I outgrew it. Because of YOUR feedback, which made me a stronger, more critical writer. I had to write something else. _

_I know this is just some lighthearted fanfic reading for most of you, but it really means a lot to me. Whatever accomplishments I go on to have as a writer will truly be on your shoulders. That's why I thanked you all a million and one times in my ANs._

_And man, it feels really weird to write my last one. For the past 8 months or so, I've been sitting and writing Loki and Cerys' story in cafes, on my couch surrounded by all my little Christmas lights, and even on my phone on the train. I'm never going to forget the feeling of posting a chapter before bed, and then waking up to feedback from you all. Or how my heart raced when I contemplated the scene where Cerys fell from the roof. I don't know if I'll ever write a third installment for this series, but I did leave that option open for myself by making their wedding televised (so yeah, that was intentional). As of now, I'll be working on Lower Your Eyes (the most recent manifestation of my newer writing style), and will soon be debuting myself under a fitting fantasy/romance pseudonym (info that will be posted to my profile eventually), and my original works will go to Kindle. _

_Thank you all so much. We may not all know each other personally, but as a writer, every entity in my life is a meaningful character-for months, that's included you guys. For measurable, practical reasons reflected in my writing. I wish you all the best. _


End file.
